Meta-Fic II: New Gods
by YukonWolf
Summary: The heroes are triumphant, and Inferno's bid for power is ended, but the war isn't over yet. The Church of Thorns has finally risen up to take control, and it will take all the heroes' strength to stop them.
1. Chapter 1

**April 26, 9 ATC**

**Aresee Manor, Free City of Reticle, Pollination-Crosshares Commonwealth**

Zissman sat at the end of the table, fingers knotted into a ball, looking over the assembly of nobles, burghers, and clergy that constituted the upper echelons of Inferno's realm. Duchess Kuma, Inferno's designated regent, sat formally in the middle of the left side of the table. Already a powerful vassal in the Pollinational half of Inferno's commonwealth, she now expected to take full control as regent until an heir from Inferno's family could be located. Zissman doubted her ambitions would come to pass.

High Priest Emlee sat directly across from Kuma, and he was significantly less composed. He grumbled and bickered with anyone near him. Likely, he was irritated by the Church's invitation to a meeting, which subtly suggested command over him. Tensions between the Yurist Church of Crosshares and the Church of Thorns were already high, and this meeting would almost certainly bring them to a head.

Mayor Naitou sat at the head of the table, opposite Zissman and closest to the doors, as was the custom of the host in Crosshares. Naitou was the one who offered his manor as a meeting place, which was more becoming than the damp safehouse Zissman had occupied, and Zissman had accepted. Naitou, however, was dangerous in his own right, being the unofficial coordinator of all the Commonwealth's free cities, and his influence could cinch them both money and ships for the continued war.

Eventually, the chatter of the assembled lords dimmed, allowing Zissman to stand and begin his speech. Next to him, Jannis rocked back and forth on his heels in anticipation.

"My friends, my fellows," Zissman began, flashing them a warm smile. "It's regretful that we must meet under these circumstances."

"It's regretful we must meet at all," a nobleman muttered, eliciting a few chuckles from the lords around him. Zissman ignored him.

"Inferno is dead," he said. The sudden announcement, though everyone already knew it, helped to ground some of the assembly. Though Zissman did not show it, it amused him. "The leader of this war with the Subreddit is gone. The League has the advantage. We must figure out two things: one, what our strategy going forward will be. Two, who will lead us there." Zissman already knew the answers, but he would let the lords talk among themselves first.

"We cannot give up now!" Kuma said, and she stood to emphasize her point. "The League may have killed Inferno, but now they've revealed themselves. They're on our territory, surrounded by our men. We should strike them now and end the threat they pose!"

"I agree." Dollface II, the scion of a cadet line of Inferno's royal house, stood up. She was close to the Church, being one of the first (and yet, one of the few) major nobles to convert. "We cannot give in, or the League will ruin us. We will lose our power, our influence, and our way of life. Look what happened to Emberald and Night's Watch after Celtic's revolt! They were right villains, but Nitesco has a horrible habit of bastardizing the countries he invades with democracy."

"We should make peace," Mayor Naitou suggested. "We don't have the resources to carry on this war for very much longer. Our coffers are steadily emptying, our river and ocean navies are being depleted, and our manpower has been squandered fighting our allies' battles for them in foreign theatres! If we continue on our present course, our vaults will be empty long before the League gets the chance to loot them!"

"We still have enough resources to succeed if we move quickly," Emlee countered. "Our coffers aren't empty yet. And even if they were, we can't afford to give up now. Losses of money and men can be recouped easily. But if we surrender, we will lose everything. It will take decades to return to where we are now. War is the only option."

"The people grow discontent with this war," Naitou said. "Inferno is dead, and with her, much of our leverage. Can anyone here guarantee that this can be ended quickly?"

Dollface stood and smiled at Zissman.

"The Church can," she said. Zissman was pleasantly surprised, and was amused by the shocked and indignant looks given by the rest of the assembly. "The Church has roots in almost every major country in the Subreddit. If anyone can undermine our enemies, it's them."

"You mean to cavort with the Church?" Emlee exclaimed. He grimaced as Dollface nodded back.

"I do. They can offer us advantages nobody else can."

"But they're undermining our religion!" Emlee retorted, clearly distressed. "Our way of life!"

"_Your _way of life," Dollface said, unfazed. "You and the Church can have your sectarian squabble once we're done with this war." Emlee grumbled but sat back down.

"We can offer you much," Zissman said. "We have colonies of converts ready to inspire revolt anywhere and loyal agents in every government. Not only that, but we have full legions of Church Crusaders in reserve, ready and willing to bolster our forces. We can wreak havoc on our enemies in any way we choose."

"I will take the Church's friendship," Dollface said. "They seem a worthy ally." Murmurs of agreement. Kuma and Emlee huffed.

"Very well," Naitou spoke. "We will tolerate you, for now. But we are still left with the problem of leadership. Who will take Inferno's place?"

Duchess Kuma stood, as Zissman knew she would. He let Kuma speak, to divide the lords present so he could unite them again.

"I am Queen Inferno's regent. I should take her place. Until we trace the family tree back to a known heir, I will take charge."

At this, Dollface stood up and pointed at Kuma. "You are a Pollinational," she said. "You are not one of us. No Crossharish will submit to a foreign lord."

"Inferno was Pollinational too," Kuma pointed out smugly. "So was her half-brother. So were all her predecessors, and Crosshares rarely had a problem with that."

"The royal family knew both of our cultures," Dollface retorted. "You only know one."

"Enough!" Naitou demanded. "We cannot fight a war if we are fighting each other. How can we stand up to foreign invaders if we cannot stand up on our own?"

"You're absolutely right," Zissman said. He put on the most concerned face he could manage. "We cannot fight this war, let alone win, if we are divided. Inferno was able to unite the people of Crosshares and Pollination, even though they were split apart after Celtic's Revolt. We must find a way to unite this broken land. And what better way," he said with a hint of mischief in his voice, "to unite the people than religion?"

A silence fell over the assembly, a shocked silence that worried Jannis enough to reach for his sword. Lords and burghers turned to each other in unease, while the clergy were in varying stages of fury. At last, Emlee stood up.

"Never!" he bellowed. Zissman raised his eyebrows.

"And why not?" he asked. Emlee turned a bright red and balled his fists.

"Because you are heretics!" he screamed. "And you are foreigners! You have stuck your hands in our business for far too long! You do not belong here!"

"Inferno made us the state church," Zissman said, keeping his cool.

"Inferno made many mistakes," Emlee growled. "Siding with you and your ilk chief among them. I know what you were doing. Did you think none of us would figure it out? You wanted to use Inferno as a stepping stone to power! Well, your plot ends here!"

"How dare you accuse us of such treachery!" Zissman exclaimed. Taking the offensive now would project strength, but he needed also to soothe and sway the unconvinced lords of his sincerity. "We are a house of holiness. Just because our Goddess is different from yours doesn't change our morals. All we seek to do is spread our message through the Subreddit, nothing more."

"You lie!" Kuma denounced him. "I know what you really want, Zissman!" She spat out his name with such hatred it caused Zissman to flinch. "The worst part is, you think it's true! You really believe in your Goddess. But I can see it in your eyes: that lust for power that you deny yourself. But that's what all your efforts really are for, Zissman. Not your Goddess. Not your message. Power. If you can't admit it to us, at least admit it to yourself."

"Do you have anything to offer other than barbs?" Jannis spoke up. Naitou stood up and held out his hands in a placating gesture.

"Enough. Enough," he said. "This is my home. I will not tolerate such disrespect here." He let his hands fall to his side and looked at Zissman. "Unfortunately, Zissman, they are right. You are not one of us, ethnically or religiously. And we are sworn to a king, not a priest. I apologize, but I will not accept you as our leader."

"The old ways have always held you back," Zissman said darkly. "The squabbles of nations, nobles and ideologies has divided this Subreddit since its beginning. I have read your histories. It is all the same: a never-ending cycle of violence, infighting, ambition, and death. It doesn't need to continue like that.

"Inferno tried to break the cycle, to unite the warring fiefdoms that splintered us and made us vulnerable. That is what we seek to do. We seek to do away with the rotting foundations this Subreddit suffers and replace it with something new: a Subreddit where there is order, but there is also freedom. Peace, but also justice. Plenty, but also opportunity. What does it matter what gods we have or do not have? You can stand with us and help us heal this Subreddit, or you can reject us and stand against the tide of progress. The choice is yours." Zissman let the words sink in, watching as it softened the expressions of some and hardened the expressions of others. He knew exactly who he could count on.

"The Church can offer us so much!" Dollface said. "Their religion is spreading through our lands and others'. They can provide us unity. Strength. And they will lead us to victory. I support the Church." She pressed her right palm to her chest and folded her left fist over it in the salute of the Church. Several others, swayed by Zissman's rhetoric, performed the salute themselves.

"Preposterous," Emlee muttered. "Supporting this Outlander, who has no claim to the throne! I will support Kuma, who at least has legitimacy."

Zissman sighed and leaned forward. "Okay, let's make this simple. We'll put it to a vote. All those in support of Kuma, please stand."

Kuma and Emlee were the first to stand, followed by many of the Pollinational nobles and a few of the Crossharish ones. All of the Yurist clergymen stood. Only a few of the burghers stood, but Naitou was among them.

"You're outvoted," Emlee sneered. Kuma nodded, a condescending grin on her face.

"All of you still seated, leave," she commanded. "I'd like to have a word with Zissman and Jannis."

Zissman beckoned for them to obey, and the Church supporters reluctantly filed out. Zissman laughed grimly, stood, and stared the remaining lords down. "You are the enemies of progress," he declared. "You are the enemies of the Goddess. There will be punishment for your crimes."

"You dare threaten me?" Naitou interjected, finally losing his composure. "In my own home?"

"It will not be yours for much longer," Zissman said. "Men! Now!"

Jannis swiftly unsheathed his broadsword and, charging over to Emlee, buried it in his skull. The High Priest slumped over onto the table, his skull crushed like an empty bottle and its contents spilling out. As the standing lords turned to flee or to attack Jannis, the doors to the chamber barged open. A dozen Church Crusaders, led by Draco, spilled in and began slashing at the standing noblemen.

Naitou attempted to draw his sword, but Draco slashed him across the stomach and watched as he fell to the ground. Two nobles ran at him, perhaps to attack him, perhaps to escape through the main door, but it mattered not to Draco. In a wide, sweeping attack, he beheaded one of them and clipped the other in the hip, allowing a Crusader to finish off the wounded one as he stabbed a twitching Naitou on the ground.

Zissman watched the carnage with disinterest. Surely, it was regrettable that such drastic action was necessary. But he couldn't help but feel a bit of eagerness. Without them, nobody could stop him from—

His internal monologue was interrupted as a dagger arced toward his face. Zissman stepped back just in time and drew his own dagger, prepared to meet his assailant. He laughed as he saw his assailant was Kuma, who had armed herself.

"You came prepared, didn't you?" Zissman asked with amusement. Kuma nodded.

"I never did trust you. I'm smart like that."

Zissman shrugged. "I wouldn't say smart. If you trusted me, you could've lived."

Kuma shrieked and dove at him, swinging and stabbing ferociously, but with form and poise. Zissman countered and dodged each strike, though each one got closer to his body.

"You don't know how to fight, Zissman," Kuma taunted. Her blade nicked his eyebrow. "You're too reactive, not active. It's why you will fail." She thrusted, slicing his dagger arm, but Zissman kept his grip on his blade.

"Just because you can't see my plan doesn't mean it's not there," Zissman retorted. Kuma's next swipe barely missed slicing him just below his right eye. "Sometimes you need to be slow, to be reactive. The enemy will open themselves up for you." At this, he caught Kuma's arm as she missed another slash and wrenched her wrist. The dagger fell from her hand. "And then you knock their legs out from under them." Zissman punctuated his statement by doing exactly that. As Kuma fell backward, he stabbed her several times in the stomach to make sure she would not get back up.

Kuma hit the ground hard, bleeding profusely from her stomach, and tried to sit up. Zissman pushed her back down and held his dagger to her throat.

"If you have any final barbs for me," he said mirthlessly, "now is the time."

"You will never win, Zissman," she spat out. "You will be remembered as a tyrant and a failure!"

"Maybe," Zissman said, "but I will be remembered." He drew his blade across her throat, watching as her blood gushed out of the open would. "That's more than I can say for you."

Kuma glared at him hatefully while desperately trying to plug the wound in her neck. Zissman stood up and walked away, ignoring the ever-softening sounds of Kuma's desperate gurgling until they finally went silent.

The meeting room was a mess. Blood and corpses stained the floor. The Crusaders paced around the room, stabbing every corpse twice just to make sure they were dead. Draco and Jannis approached Zissman.

"Well done, gentlemen," Zissman said. Draco bowed theatrically, while Jannis merely nodded, somewhat perturbed.

"Thank you, Scion," Draco said. He wiped the blood off his sword before sheathing it. "It was a good opportunity to test out my new blade."

"Do you like it?" Zissman asked. Draco shrugged and unsheathed his sword, holding it up to the light.

"It's a fine weapon, but a little blunt for my tastes. Do you have anything with more swinging power? A scimitar, perhaps?"

Zissman furrowed his brow and swallowed, but nodded. "Of course. Remind me later and I'll have my blacksmith make one."

"I'll be sure to do that," Draco said. He walked off, stepping over the bodies as he left the room. Zissman turned to Jannis.

"My friend," Zissman said. "You look uneasy."

"I prefer killing men on the fields of battle," Jannis admitted. "I'm not a big fan of subterfuge."

"It is necessary," Zissman cooed, and Jannis sighed.

"I know it's necessary. If I were in your position, I would probably do it too. But that doesn't mean I have to like it." They walked over to the large window behind Zissman's chair, stepping over Kuma's lifeless body. "How do you plan to break the news to our supporters?" Jannis asked.

Zissman shrugged. "I'll probably tell Dollface first, then have her break the news to the rest. She'll make a fine lieutenant." He paused. "Are Anti and Faker ready?"

"They're busy amassing their forces," Jannis said. "It will take a little bit, but we'll be ready to counterattack in three weeks' time."

"And the Badaz League?" Zissman asked, looking out over the city. "Do we know where they've set up?"

"They're commanding their campaign out of a city not far from Inferno's former stronghold," Jannis reported. "Though they've received reinforcements, we should be able to overpower them if we bolster our forces with Inferno's men and our Crusaders."

"Excellent," Zissman said. "Jannis, I place you in command of this operation. In three weeks' time, we will have eliminated the League. The Subreddit will be as good as ours."

"As the Goddess wills it," Jannis said.

"Yes, Jannis. As the Goddess wills it," Zissman responded. "Soon, all will follow the ways of our Goddess. This place will be a paradise on earth." Jannis nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, Jannis?" Zissman asked, getting his Champion's attention. "Would you send some servants to help clean up this mess?"

"Of course," Jannis said. "Servants' quarters are downstairs in the east wing, right?"

"They should be," Zissman said. Jannis nodded and left the room. Zissman turned and noticed that the Crusaders had gone too. He was alone.

"I promise, Goddess," Zissman said, clutching the pendant of a thorny rose that hung around his neck. "This Subreddit will soon be yours."

Zissman let go of the pendant and looked out the window, over the city. The morning sun beat down on the rooftops. Truly, he thought, it was a beautiful sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**May 19, 9 ATC**

**Outside the City of Egestas, Duchy of Leporin, Pollination-Crosshares Commonwealth**

Jannis stood on a small hill overlooking the city, seeing if he could discern any weaknesses in the League's defenses. The city sat on the Fic River, a tributary of the Crack River, and several river vessels were docked or anchored around the city. If Faker played his part and struck at the docks, then there would be no problem. The problem was his: how would he go about a land assault? From the south, his approach was covered by the forests, but that would potentially choke his offensive abilities, especially since both Nitesco and Coronam specialized in forest combat. The east was open fields and roads. It would be an even fight there, but Jannis always sought an edge on his opponents, and he was not sure how his numbers compared. The north and east ends of the city bordered the river, denying him assault from there. Jannis stroked his chin and pondered the situation.

"Jannis!" Faker exclaimed. Jannis turned to see the Triumvir walking over to him, an eager skip in his step. "What are you doing up here? The troops are getting antsy."

"Trying to figure out how we'll be going about this," Jannis said. "The League had heavy defenses to begin with, and they received reinforcements about a week back. More emissaries from their member states have arrived today, with even more soldiers. I'm not sure we have the numbers to pull this off."

"You can always pull it off if you don't fight fair," Faker remarked. Jannis frowned.

"We have no spies or saboteurs," Jannis said. "We're on equal footing in men, if my scouts report correctly. We'll have to win this battle through tactics."

"Well, you may have no spies or saboteurs," Faker said, a sly grin appearing on his face. "But I have an agent in Contramundi's private guard that tells me the Badaz League commanders are having a meeting today, shortly after noon. Strike then, when their leaders are distracted, and you'll throw them into disarray."

Jannis stroked his chin, and the sourness disappeared from his expression. "Good to know," he said, "but there's still soldiers to deal with. There are two fronts to attack from: the open plains from the west, and the forested south. We can split our forces and attack during the disarray."

Faker nodded slowly, considering the situation. "My soldiers are more suited to open combat than the forests," he said. "We'll attack from the west. If Coronam draws his forces away from the south to bolster that, all the better. It'll leave a hole for your men to slip into."

Jannis smiled proudly. "An excellent suggestion. When the words of our Goddess are finally spread to all corners of this Subreddit, you will be rewarded with us."

"Even though I don't believe in your gods?" Faker asked. Jannis chuckled good-naturedly and patted Faker on the shoulder.

"You fight with us," Jannis said. "What you believe is irrelevant. You are our brother in blood. Your fate is tied to ours."

Faker nodded, considering Jannis' words. "Perhaps," he said. "But these musings will have to wait. The troops are waiting."

"Then let's not keep them any longer," said Jannis. They began the descent from the hill, and Jannis grinned in anticipation. "Today, we win this war."

* * *

Austin sat in the stuffy meeting room of the mayoral manor, waiting for the others to arrive. Nitesco and Coronam had summoned all of the League's commanders to a meeting, given that the war was turning steadily in their favor, to decide postwar boundaries and trade routes. Such policy bored her, but she knew it was necessary, so she sucked it up and waited, preparing herself for the onslaught of mind-numbing procedure.

"Austin," Nitesco said. He walked into the empty room and took the seat directly to Austin's left. He sighed.

"What's chewing at you?" Austin asked. Nitesco shrugged.

"Disappointment, I suppose." He paused, eyes scanning the map that sat in the middle of the table. "When Cetic's Revolt ended, I hoped that the Subreddit would never again have to see a civil war as destructive as that."

"We ended this war in only a few months," Austin said. "That must count for something."

"It's not the length of the war, it's the effects." Nitesco started tracing a circle on the map absentmindedly. "This war split the Subreddit in two. If our campaign had failed, we would've been mired in as much destruction as the Revolt. And I fear we will be divided for many decades to come as it is."

Austin was about to ask why when Gwydion entered the room with the Mask in tow. Nitesco turned to Gwydion and exchanged greetings before Gwydion sat down next to Nitesco and began talking about some recent financial development. The Mask, in turn, took the seat to Austin's right.

"Austin," he said in greeting.

"The Mask," she said. "Or is it just Mask?"

"Just Mask," the Mask said. "Don't overthink it." Though Austin couldn't see it, she could tell he was smiling.

"Alright then, Mask," Austin said, slightly amused. "What have you been up to? I haven't seen you for some time."

The Mask laughed his gravelly laugh. "The less you know about that, the better. The Arkosians are barely keeping their peace around me. The last think I want anyone here having is an excuse to arrest the Subreddit's most notorious criminal."

"I was a mercenary before," Austin said. "I've done things of… dubious legality too."

The Mask shrugged, considering her answer. "Fair enough. But you're a commander now. Nobody can touch you."

"I wouldn't have become a commander without your support," Austin said. "Speaking of, why did you nominate me for the position? I was just some nobody commoner."

"So was Gwydion. So was Nitesco. So was Quixotic." The Mask drummed his fingers on the counter. "There's something… inspiring about heroes with humble origins. Kings and lords make up most of our historical heroes, but the ones who came from nothing had to fight for what they have. They don't wage war out of entitlement. They wage war for everything they have, and they give it their all because they know what it's like to be downtrodden and beaten and hurt."

"And how do you know what I've been through?" Austin asked, out of curiosity as much as suspicion. The Mask shrugged again.

"Call it instinct," he said wryly. His tone suggested that Austin would get nothing more out of him, so she went back to quietly staring at the map.

After a few more moments, Coronam arrived with Opifexa and Cinder at his side, as usual. "Good morning, my friends," he announced, and he sat down at the table, Opifexa and Cinder on either side of him. "How are we today?"

"As good as I'll ever be," Gwydion said. "I've never had a mind for foreign policy. That was always Nitesco's thing."

"I'm in the same boat," Austin said. Gwydion cracked a smile.

"Where are the Arkosians?" Nitesco asked. "It's not like them to be late."

"They're investigating something in the forests," Opifexa said. "Zealander told me that it might've been an enemy scout."

"Zealander's paranoid," Cinder said. "We relocated the civilians of this town to the next village over. It's probably just one of them."

"We should leave nothing to chance," the Mask spoke in his gravelly voice. "Even if Inferno is gone, her lieutenants are still a threat. Not to mention the Church."

"We already encountered the Church," Coronam said, with a dismissive air. "They are not a threat."

"They are more of a threat than any nation in this Subreddit!" The Mask stood up in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Coronam lifted his arms in a placating gesture.

"Easy, guys," Nitesco chided. "We've dealt with Inferno. Soon we will deal with her underlings and officers. There's no need to be making enemies when we're so close to peace."

Coronam and the Mask exchanged glances and sighed. "Very well," the Mask muttered. "I will hold my peace. But for how long?"

"My friends," Austin said, her voice as calm as she could will it. "Let's not get—"

A muffled bang startled the officials present, causing all of them to flinch at once and turn towards the source of the noise. Nothing happened.

Gwydion, alarmed, let his hand go to his sword's hilt. "What was—"

A cannonball flew through the side of the building, sending a spray of debris over the commanders, who desperately shielded their faces with their arms. "What the fuck?!" Cinder exclaimed.

Another cannonball splintered the ceiling above their heads, sending a wooden plank flying down. It narrowly missed Austin and shattered the table they were sitting at.

"We're under attack," the Mask said with an unusual calm about him. Opifexa shook the wood splinters off of herself.

"Maybe Zealander was right about the scouts," she suggested shakily. Nitesco drew his sword and pointed to Gwydion.

"Gwydion, go to the Arkosians and see how they fare," he commanded. "If they're attacking from the south then they'll be attacking the west too. Their barracks are closest to that front!"

"Will do, Nitesco!" Gwydion exclaimed, practically halfway out the door. Nitesco nodded and returned to the group.

"Okay, we need to rally a defense and a counterattack," Nitesco said. "Any suggestions?"

"The Renoran barracks are closest to here," Coronam said, glaive already drawn. "I can lead a counterattack on their artillery. It's probably hidden in the woods."

"Good," Nitesco said. "I can send some of my troops your way to bolster your attack. The rest will stay behind to form the defensive line."

"My soldiers are closest to the center of the city," Austin said. "We could form a defensive perimeter with my troops and have a second line of defense near the docks with what's left of Nitesco's."

"Excellent plan," Nitesco said. "If we have to make a retreat, the docks will be the only option."

"I can go get my mercenaries and tell them to prepare the ships for a retreat," the Mask suggested. "Though I'm sure the enemy has set up a naval barrier of some sort downstream."

"It'll have to wait," Austin said. "Hop to it. Nitesco and I will go get our troops." The Mask gave her a thumbs up and scrambled out of the room in the direction of the docks.

"So," Coronam said, turning to Austin and Nitesco. "Things don't look good."

"We've had worse odds and pulled through," Nitesco said. He tried to keep his expression calm, but both Coronam and Austin could see the panic in his eyes.

"And if we don't?" Coronam asked. Austin drew her sword.

"Then we don't die alone," she said. Coronam laughed a deep, foreboding laugh.

"I can get behind that," Coronam said. "Opifexa! Go with the Mask to secure the ships. Cinder! Take a few soldiers and head to the watchtower. Report to Austin or Nitesco with any important news. Got it?"

"Can do!" Cinder shouted, and he ran off to the watchtower. Opifexa lingered uneasily a few seconds more, looking like she had something to say, but instead nodded and followed Cinder out. With only the three commanders left, Nitesco raised his sword as if it were a glass of wine for a toast.

"Well, my friends," he said. "Are we ready?"

Coronam tapped the blade of his glaive to Nitesco's sword. "As I'll ever be," he said, with a sense of grim reality in his voice.

Austin lifted her sword to meet the others' weapons and nodded. "Well then," she said. "Let's get to it."

* * *

Gwydion sprinted through the streets of Egestas, breathing heavily, his middle-aged body taking him as fast as it could to the Arkosian defenses. His right leg lagged a bit, catching a rock. Gwydion stumbled a few steps forward, then stabilized himself and continued his spring.

"Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit." Gwydion chanted the words like a mantra, each "fuck" said aloud as his left leg made contact, each "shit" as his right came down. At last, he rounded a corner and saw the Arkosian defenses in sight.

"Finally," he said aloud. "I'm too old for this!"

Gwydion sprinted through the defensive line, trying to find either Strike or Vulpix. The defenses had been erected in the city's outermost buildings and small pastures, and despite the enemy's attempts to destroy their position with artillery, the defenses remained mostly intact.

"Gwydion! Over here!" Gwydion heard his name and looked over to see Vulpix waving him into a repurposed farmstead which was apparently their new command post. He ducked under a stray piece of shrapnel and stumbled into the farmhouse. The inside was nondescript: tables, chairs and a fireplace, like in all farmhouses. Vulpix, Strike and a few other officers bustled around, trying to find a suitable counter to the attack.

"Strike! Uh, Zealander!" Gwydion waved them over to him, and they broke away from the other officers to speak with him. "How's the battle coming along here?"

"We had a heads-up," Strike explained. "Like we told Opifexa, our men saw someone scouting us out from the trees at the edge of the field. We sent our scouts to investigate, and they came back a few minutes before they struck."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Gwydion asked, suddenly angry.

"We sent out a runner, but the enemy attacked before he could get there, apparently," Vulpix said. "We got our men mobilized and a defense readied just in time to stop a full assault."

"What now?" Gwydion asked. Vulpix and Strike exchanged somewhat hostile glares.

"That's where we disagree," Vulpix said. "Colonel Strike wants to be a hero and charge the enemy."

"We have to!" Strike exclaimed indignantly. "If we hole up here, then the enemy could go around or launch an assault. We can't beat them back if we're sitting on our hands!"

"We're not trying to beat them back!" Vulpix said. "We're entrenching. If they wanted to charge us, they would've done it by now. Our job is to keep these forces occupied until our allies can rout their friends at the south."

"Coronam's launched a counterattack near the south side," Gwydion informed them. "But he might not have the manpower to do it."

"All the more reason to attack!" Strike exclaimed. "We should break their assault so we can send our forces to Coronam!"

"If it fails, they break through and we're flanked," Vulpix retorted. "The risk is not worth the reward. The best thing we can do for Coronam is prevent him from being surrounded."

"Enough!" Gwydion shouted. By some miracle, he was able to command the attention of both Vulpix and Strike. They stared at him tensely, wondering which of them he would back.

"Look," Gwydion said, "we don't have the advantage here. We're pinned down in the city and they have both higher terrain and the element of surprise. Any attack we make right now would be doomed from the start."

"Not if we went over the ridge," Strike said. "There's a small cluster of hills to the southwest that we could flank them through."

"They could see it coming," Vulpix said. Gwydion saw something in Vulpix's eyes: a steely glare of stubbornness and command, a look he had not seen in Vulpix's eyes since they met during Celtic's Revolt. It sent a shiver down his spine.

"It's a risk we need to take!" Strike retorted. His hands twitched rapidly; he was eager for a fight. Gwydion sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Look, son," Gwydion said. "It's better to keep the battle on our turf. If they attack, we have the advantage. Unless there's no other way, we-"

A cannonball suddenly burst through the wall, peppering the officers with mortar and shrapnel. Strike, in a split-second decision, grabbed Gwydion and dragged him to the ground with him, taking a few shards of shrapnel as they both collapsed to the ground.

* * *

"Fuck!" Someone was yelling, but Gwydion could barely understand it. He tried to sit up, but he was struck by a wave of throbbing pain and collapsed back into the rubble.

"Gwydion!" The voice shocked him, snapping him back to reality. Gwydion groaned and sat up to see Strike, dirtied and bleeding but still alive. He was crouching next to Gwydion, examining the damage done.

"Gwydion," he said, calmer this time. "Are you okay?"

Gwydion grunted but extended his hand. "Bruised and bleeding," he grumbled, "but nothing I'm unaccustomed to. Help me up?"

Strike grabbed his hand and yanked Gwydion up from the rubble. Gwydion stumbled up and steadied himself on Strike's shoulder. As he shakily let go of Strike, he took a moment to observe the destruction. The house itself was completely reduced to rubble, the air still thick with dust from the impact. A few of the officers were clearly dead, but most were still alive.

"Zealander," Strike whispered to himself, just loud enough for Gwydion to hear, and Gwydion realized that he hadn't seen Vulpix anywhere. Strike stepped over the dead body of another officer looked around frantically. "Zealander!" he yelled.

A faint grunt on the other side of a rubble pile drew Gwydion's attention. He patted Strike on the shoulder and pointed to the pile. They circled around the debris and found Vulpix lying in his side under a few bricks, bleeding but breathing. Gwydion cleared the mess off of him and Strike knelt down by his side.

"Sir!" he said, trying to prop Vulpix upright. "Are you alright?"

Vulpix nodded and groaned. "I'm alright," he grunted, and he steadied himself against a fallen plank to stand up. "Hurt, but I'll live."

"They're charging!" A voice cried out. Gwydion and Strike both looked up from Vulpix to see several thousand Enablerese troops charging in formation toward them, bellowing the Enablerese war chant.

Gwydion and Strike swallowed nervously and turned to Vulpix to measure his reaction. To their surprise, Vulpix did not seem angry or distressed. Instead, a cold look of duty appeared on his face, and in lieu of words, he climbed atop the pile of rubble and drew his sword.

The Arkosians' reaction was swift and wild: as soon as they saw one of their commanders standing defiantly against what was certainly an overwhelming force, they joined him. The soldiers raised their spears and swords to the sky and howled a war cry in response.

As the Enablerese barrelled toward the defenses, Vulpix let his sword lower a bit and he turned to Gwydion and Strike. A grim look appeared on his face.

"Ready to die, boys?" he asked. Gwydion drew his sword and thrust it in the air.

"Always!" He and Strike spoke in unison, and the Enablerese smashed into the defenses.

Blood was everywhere. Gwydion swung wildly against the advancing soldiers, staining their gold uniforms with red. Despite the defenders' best efforts, more and more enemies flooded over the edge of the barricade, forcing Gwydion back. He ducked under an incoming sword swing and, after dispatching the attacker, looked up to see what the situation was.

He, Strike and Vulpix had been cornered with a few other soldiers in the ruins of the farmstead, and the Arkosians were desperately fending off the soldiers that tried to climb into it. They had the defensive advantage, Gwydion observed, but that alone would not save them from the onslaught.

"Back! Back, you beasts!" Vulpix was still visibly bleeding, but a fiery vigor had overcome him. He swung, stabbed, and kicked at each of the soldiers that came his way, desperately attacking them with whatever he had. "Hold strong, men!" he bellowed, and he kicked an Enablerese spearman through the broken doorframe.

Strike fought just as ferociously, but not as wildly. With his sword already bloody, he stabbed and swung at the advancing Enablerese. He let out a war cry as he skewered a wounded skirmisher. "For the glory of Arkos!" Strike shouted, fending off a particularly aggressive knight.

As a quartet of heavy foot soldiers charged in through a hole in the wall, Gwydion leapt into action, whacking the first one in several times on the shoulder and letting him collapse to bleed out. As the second and third managed to force their way in, a few of the unoccupied Arkosians in the farmstead with him charged them, forcing them back and dispatching one of them. As the men filled the gaps in the farmstead's defenses, Vulpix and Strike ducked back with Gwydion into the part of the building that was still intact.

"This doesn't look good for us," Strike said. Vulpix rubbed his temples and tried to think.

"Alright," he said. "We're surrounded and we're about to be overrun." Strike and Gwydion leaned in, interested in what Vulpix had to say next, but he just looked at them questioningly. "What?" he asked. "Did you think there was more to it?"

"You're the commander here," Gwydion reminded him. Even Strike nodded deferentially in agreement. Vulpix twisted at the frayed ends of his uniform and chewed his nails.

"Well," he said. "We aren't going to turn this in our favor. Our only hope is retreat. If we went north—"

"Look!" An Arkosian soldier yelled, and he pointed into the distance. "Reinforcements!"

The trio scrambled over to the open half of the farmstead, which seemed to be no longer under attack. A sizeable force of soldiers, many Gunnian, was bolstering the sagging Arkosian lines. At the moment, the Enablerese were being pushed back enough to guarantee a safe escape for Gwydion, Strike and Vulpix.

As a platoon of Bumblebeeans marched near the farmstead, Gwydion vaulted over a collapsed wall and grabbed one of them. "Soldier," he said, "who sent you?"

"Commander Austin," the soldier responded. "She heard from your runners that you flank was about to be overwhelmed. We were sent to relieve you while you made your retreat."

Vulpix and Strike walked up to the conversation, still covered in bits of shrapnel. "Retreat to where?" Vulpix asked.

"The docks," the soldier answered stoically. "The city is under attack from all sides. Nitesco's holding strong there, but if you want to make it, you have to retreat now."

"Retreat?" Strike asked, incredulous. "We can't retreat! This is our stronghold in Heroa!"

"Our stronghold is lost," Vulpix said, and a stark glumness set on him. "There's no need to die along with it. I'll gather as many men as I can. Strike, Gwydion, meet me outside the docks."

Gwydion and Strike nodded and began heading toward the docks. "Zealander!" Gwydion exclaimed, drawing his attention. He paused. "Come back in one piece," he added.

Vulpix nodded in response. "I'll do my best," he said, and he began yelling orders to the closest men.

"Come on, Gwydion!" Strike exclaimed. Gwydion paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his first major defeat in a long time: the stark bloodshed, the mountains of bodies friend and foe, the debris streaked over the field, all illuminated by the light of the evening sun. He tarried for only a second more, before turning around to make his way to the docks.

* * *

Coronam arrived at the south gate, glaive in hand, ready to fight. His soldiers, which he had rounded up and sent there already, were there to meet him, their quiet expressions masking an almost zealous resolve. Coronam marched through the gaps in the lines and took his place at the front, lifting his glaive high in the air.

"Men!" His voice rippled through the crowd like it was water. "You are soldiers of Renora! Yours is a proud heritage!" The soldiers bellowed back in affirmation. Coronam smiled.

"For generations, we have fought any and all who might encroach upon our lands! We have destroyed invaders, pillagers, and tyrants. We marched into the halls of Inferno's power and hung her from the wall!"

Another war cry, more bloodthirsty than the last, met him in response. Coronam's expression hardened into one of quiet resolve.

"And now a new enemy attacks from the shadows, like cowards, seeking to destroy us, the vanguard of justice! But we will not give up! We will not give in!"

Coronam turned to the forests just outside the south gate. He could see the enemy soldiers moving and dodging through the trees, preparing to swarm them. He leveled his glaive at the advancing forces.

"We are Renorans!" he screamed. "We do not yield!"

The soldiers' response was quick, a single cry of proud affirmation. As they dug into the makeshift defenses they set up within the city walls, Coronam squinted at the trees to see who the enemy was.

A wave of crimson-armored soldiers emerged from the forests, a simplified sigil of a thorny white rose on their flags and painted on their armor. Suddenly, Coronam recognized it.

The Church of Thorns.

"Rally up!" he ordered. Coronam turned around and leaped over a makeshift barricade, taking his place behind it. He turned around and saw that the Church Crusaders were getting ever closer, and he prepared himself for a fight.

A loud explosion rattled Coronam and the rest of his ranks, temporarily distracting him from the incoming threat. As he turned, he saw a row of Church artillery set up in the trees, and he saw what it was for. A gaping hole had been blown in the side of the city wall, and Church soldiers were beginning to pass through it.

"There's a breach there!" Coronam cried. "First, fourth and eighth brigades! Go to—"

He was cut off by another loud explosion. Coronam turned and, to his horror, another hole had been blown in the walls to the opposite side, allowing the Church three entrances.

"Third, seventh, tenth! To the other breach!" Coronam hollered, and his men flooded away to protect the breach. He turned back to the central gate and saw legions of Church Crusaders bearing down on his severely weakened forces.

"Hold strong, men!" Coronam yelled, but his words went unheard as the Crusaders met the barricades. The sounds of clanging swords and dying men filled the air in a brutal cacaphony, and Coronam was forced back by the sheer number of the soldiers before him. A knight swung at him with his shield, but Coronam backpedaled and rammed his guisarme into the man's stomach before turning around.

Another explosion rattled his men, but this time, the source was closer: a watchtower on the south gate exploded in a brilliant shower of bricks, raining onto both the Crusaders and his men. A thick cloud of smoke enveloped the combatants, but the Church did not let up.

"Retreat to the watchtower square!" Coronam bellowed. His soldiers shifted into a turtle formation, shields up and spears out, trying to weather the relentless assault of the Church as they inched their way back into the city.

At last, the soldiers reached the watchtower square, ducking behind the barricades Nitesco's soldiers had set up. As soon as the Renorans had manned the defenses, the Church soldiers slammed into the barricades like a tidal wave and poured through.

Coronam barely had time to turn around when the first soldier lunged at him. She was woefully inexperienced, and Coronam slit her throat without much difficulty. The second and third were both Church knights, their shields decorated with the Church sigil. Coronam smirked.

"You guys have an afterlife?" he asked wryly. The two knights glared at him humorlessly. Coronam huffed.

"So much for battle banter," he muttered, and he charged the one on the left. The knight raised his shield to defend himself, but Coronam yanked it from the man's hand with the guisarme of his glaive. The second knight swung at him, narrowly missing Coronam's ankle as he dodged out of the way. The knight continued in his attacks, and his shieldless ally joined him, putting Coronam on the defensive.

Coronam deflected and parried as best he could, but the two of them were aggressive and well-coordinated. As the shieldless one swiped at his face, the second knight swept Coronam's foot as he deflected the first strike, sending him to the ground. The king landed hard on his back while the two knights approached him, leering over him like vultures.

"Any last words, heretic?" The one with a shield jeered at him. Coronam grit his teeth in pain and smirked.

"That was a good trick," he admitted. "Let's see if it works twice."

Coronam jammed his foot into the second knight's ankle, causing him to cry out and fall to the ground. With his glaive, he swung at the first knight. He habitually raised his shield arm to deflect, but found he had no shield, and the glaive embedded itself in his abdomen.

As the first knight collapsed, the second one scrambled up from his prone position and grabbed his sword. Coronam prepared to counterattack, but before he could, a knife flew through the air and into the knight's head, killing him instantly. The knight collapsed, and Coronam turned around to see who his savior was.

"My lord," Cinder said. His cloak and tunic were stained with blood, and the sword he held had several scuff marks. Though Cinder looked uneasy, he smiled at Coronam.

"Cinder!" Coronam exclaimed. "I forgot you were in the watchtower. How does it look?"

"Not good," Cinder said, his expression hardening into one of defeat. "The Church has broken our lines near the breaches, and the Arkosians are under heavy assault on their front. The soldiers are retreating this way, but the enemy is not far behind."

Coronam sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Where can we go to retreat?"

"Nitesco has set up a perimeter around the docks district," Cinder said. "It will hold long enough for us to evacuate, but we must go now."

Coronam grit his teeth. If he retreated, then their foothold in Heroa was lost to the Church, for whatever their insidious aims were. If they stayed, the prospect of total annihilation was not unlikely.

"Run forward," he ordered Cinder. "Tell Nitesco we're coming. And tell him to shore up his defenses, because he's going to have a lot of company." Cinder nodded obediently and began sprinting toward the docks. Coronam turned to the Renorans still with him and the soldiers that began flooding into the square from other parts of the city.

"Men!" he bellowed. "We must retreat! To the docks district, now!"

The soldiers reluctantly but obediently turned away from the battle and began their retreat toward the docks.

* * *

Nitesco paced the docks, wringing his hands as tight as rope as he tried not to give in to panic. It had been two hours since he sent out what forces he could spare to bring back Coronam and Vulpix, and though the city was large, that alone could not account for the amount of time it was taking them. That, compounded with the almost outlandish reports his scouts had given him about the enemy's ferocity, had pushed him to the brink of panic.

"Opifexa! Mask!" he shouted. The pair were busy setting up the boats for a retreat, making sure they were all properly manned and prepared to receive soldiers. Opifexa looked up, while the Mask continued prowling about the deck. "How are we doing on setup?" Nitesco asked.

Opifexa did a quick once-over of the boat and frowned. "The boats themselves are ready to sail," she said. "But I'm more concerned about loading the soldiers into the boat. The gangplanks are narrow, and the enemy is biting at our heels."

"There was enough space when we brought our soldiers over the inlet," Nitesco said, irritated.

"It's not a matter of space," the Mask interjected. He leaned on the edge of the boat and twiddled his thumbs. "It's a matter of time. We'll need at least an hour to load all the men on the boats, less if some stay behind. I don't think that's time we have, though."

"Damn," Nitesco said. "See what you can do. I want as many people on as possible, you hear?"

"I'll do what I can," Opifexa said, "but I make no promises." Nitesco grumbled and returned to his worried pacing.

"Nitesco!" Though he wasn't looking at her, Austin's voice rang clear in his ears, helping to ground him. Nitesco turned around and unclasped his hands.

"Any news?" he asked. Austin nodded.

"One of our scouts saw the Arkosians retreating this way. Our forces are holding the Enablerese off, but they won't hold them forever." She sighed wearily. "There's no sign of Coronam or his forces, though. None of the scouts I sent that way have returned."

Nitesco shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Damn!" he cried. "Losing Coronam would've been bad enough. But his forces too?" He wiped some sweat from his brow. "If the scouts are right, then we have half an hour to escape the city. That's not nearly enough time to load our troops and get away!"

Nitesco stared down at the deck and resumed pacing, feeling more frantic the more he thought about the situation. He finally raised his head up, but instead of looking straight at Austin, he looked over her shoulder, and his expression turned to one of surprise. Austin, curious, turned around to see what he was looking at.

"Cinder?" Austin asked incredulously. Cinder was sprinting down the docks toward them, out of breath but still with a skip in his step. He sat down on a crate to catch his breath and waved the two of them over.

"Cinder!" Nitesco exclaimed, his hopeful nature returning to him. "What's the news? Where are Coronam and Zealander?"

"Coronam sent me ahead," Cinder explained between breaths. "He's making a retreat to this area. The Arkosians aren't far behind."

"He's alive," Austin and Nitesco said simultaneously. "Excellent news," Nitesco added. "They can bolster our defenses while we evacuate. How far away are they?"

"Not far," Cinder said. "It should only be five or ten minutes, at the most." Austin nodded and took a seat next to Cinder while they waited for their allies to arrive.

At last, the Renorans and Arkosians began to stream into the docks area, while the sounds of distant fighting got closer and closer. Coronam was the first to walk over, bruised and cut up, but still in fighting shape. Gwydion, Vulpix and Strike were less so: they were all soaked in blood, much of it theirs, and Vulpix took every step with a pronounced limp. The four of them saw Nitesco and began walking over.

"Gwydion!" Nitesco exclaimed. He breathed a sigh of relief as Gwydion walked over to them. "I was worried I'd sent you to your death."

"You'll have to try harder next time," Gwydion joked, but there was a sense of grim reality in his voice that made Nitesco uncomfortable.

"Colonel Strike. General Zealander. Coronam," Austin said, relief in her tone. "Thank God you're all alive. We were worried sick."

"There was no need," Strike said, somewhat prideful, somewhat sarcastic. "We're alive now, and that's what matters."

"We won't be for much longer if we stay here," Coronam interjected. He turned to the boats and saw Opifexa and the Mask coming down the gangplank. "Are we ready to evacuate?" he asked.

Opifexa rocked back on her heels uncomfortably. "Yes," she said quietly. "But there's a problem." Opifexa paused sheepishly, causing Vulpix to groan.

"Don't keep me in suspense," he bluntly interjected. Opifexa sighed, but the Mask stepped in front of her to deliver the news himself.

"There's not enough time." He spoke frankly. "We're about to be overrun, and we have several thousand troops to load up. Even if we were working at maximum capacity, we probaly won't make it. Our defenses here are solid, but they won't last forever."

"It's true," Vulpix said. "On the west front, the Enablerese overran us. If we hadn't gotten reinforcements in time, we would've died."

"The Enablerese have numbers and experience," Coronam said. "But our foes were something else. Zealous, ferocious, totally willing to die if it meant taking one of us with them."

"Who did you fight?" Austin asked. Coronam's eyes betrayed fear as he looked back at her.

"The Church of Thorns."

Coronam went silent, letting the name sink in. After a few seconds of terse silence, the present commanders erupted in conversation.

"The Church of Thorns has a military?" Nitesco wondered aloud.

"Of course it does," the Mask mumbled.

"We should've destroyed them when we had the chance!" Vulpix declared.

"What do we do now?" Gwydion asked. Austin stood up on a crate and raised her hands in a calming gesture. The commanders slowly stopped their panicked chatter and turned to face her.

"These questions will have to wait," she announced. "I know we're tired. I know we're confused and hurt and defeated. But we can't give up yet. We still need to get out of here, so we can fight another day. Tell your men to begin evacuating, because we have to leave now if we're going to survive."

"Commander Nitesco! Commander Nitesco!" The cries of a worried scout interrupted Austin's speech, and the commanders turned their attention to the young man running toward them. He collapsed to his knees and began coughing violently.

"What happened, soldier?" Nitesco asked. The boy held up a finger and coughed some more, but tried to report in between gasps.

"The Church!" he rasped. "They've broken through the first line of defenses! They're engaging the second, but we don't have much time until they break through that line too!"

"Fuck," the Mask muttered. "Alright, I'll go around and make sure all the boats are ready. Let's get as many as we can." As he sprinted off, the remaining officers cast glances at each other.

"How are we going to do this?" Strike asked. "Like the Mask said, we don't have that much time. Should we make a stand?"

"We'll die if we do that," Gwydion stated. "We need to leave. Get as many men as we can and go."

"But who will be left behind?" Nitesco asked. "We can't take everyone, after all."

"We could reinforce the defenses," Austin suggested. "Send some men to keep the soldiers busy while the rest load up and get away. But who will do it?"

"I will," Coronam suddenly spoke up. Every head turned his way, each person in varying stages of surprise.

"Coronam!" Opifexa exclaimed, breaking etiquette. She gawked unintelligibly, a flurry of emotions trying to escape all at once. "You can't!" she finally stammered.

"If I hold our defenses long enough," he responded calmly, "we can all make it. I'll gather the men and tell them to man the barricades. They're eager for a chance to hit the Church back anyways."

"Are you sure about this?" Vulpix asked. "If you go, there's a good chance you die here."

"I'm prepared for that," Coronam said as nonchalantly as he could. "But we've faced worse odds and pulled through. Go. Gather your men and start loading up. I'll gather mine and get them to form another defensive line."

"Sounds like a plan," Austin said hopefully. The commanders nodded and ran off to their lines, barking orders to their men to begin loading the transports. Only Cinder and Opifexa remained.

"Well, don't just stand here and dawdle," he admonished them, putting on as confident a smile as he could muster. "Get on the transports." In response, Cinder drew his sword and stood up, thrusting his blade in the air.

"I stand with you, my lord!" he shouted. Opifexa drew her diplomat's dagger and thrust it in the air with Cinder. "I stand with you, Coronam," she echoed, though more quietly. Coronam smiled sadly and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I can't let you do that, my friends," he said. "Renora needs you more than I do."

"With all due respect, my lord," Cinder said. "I am a soldier to your uncle before I am a soldier of the League. I swore to protect his bloodline until my death. I will not go."

"Even if it means dying?" Coronam questioned him. Cinder sighed and nodded.

"Even if it means dying. I stand by my word."

"There is nothing I can say to dissuade you?" Coronam asked, but it was for show, and they both knew that.

"Nothing, my lord," Cinder said, his voice unwavering. Coronam nodded sadly.

"And what about you, Opifexa?" Coronam turned back to her. "What have you to say?"

"I stand with you," she echoed again, but the words were fearful. Coronam shook his head.

"You don't have to do that," he said. "Go with the League. You can do more good there than here."

"But what about you?" she asked. Opifexa, though she was not the type to cry, was struggling to control her emotions. Coronam smiled again and patted her on the head.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Now, go. I'll see you back at Renora."

Opifexa smiled sadly and nodded, turned around and, after giving one final wave to Cinder and Coronam, disappeared into the boat. As Cinder wandered away to gather the Renorans, Coronam stood where he was, observing the city. In the distance, large towers of fire sparked upwards into the evening sky. He steeled himself and tightened his grip on his glaive.

The Renoran soldiers began massing around him, directed by Cinder, waiting for orders. Coronam looked into the crowd, seeing that each man wore a face of acceptance: they knew many, if not all of them would not make it back, and yet despite this, stood brave in the face of their fate. It made Coronam a little less afraid.

"Alright men," he bellowed. "The Church is knocking on our doors. They think that they can destroy us in one fell swoop? They're wrong!"

The soldiers erupted in cheers and hollers, which quickly died down at Coronam's glare. He continued: "Our brothers are preparing to retreat, so they can stand to fight these men another day. It's up to us to buy them time, to keep them safe so that the Church does not snuff us out. We will defend them to our dying breaths, and we will live on as heroes!"

The soldiers cheered uproariously, waving their swords and spears in the air. Coronam pointed at the barricades, and the soldiers eagerly broke off to go man them. It made him smile.

"Come on, men," he shouted as he went with them. "Let's give them a fight they'll never forget!"

The Renoran soldiers waited with anticipation as the Church forces closed in. A sea of red suits of armor marked with the symbol of the white rose approached, marching at a steady pace. The Renorans steeled themselves. With no archers among them, all they could do was wait for their foes to engage them in melee. Coronam and Cinder stood alongside the soldiers holding the barricade, glaive and sword at the ready. After some minutes had passed, the church army charged. They crashed into the Renoran wall at full force.

The fighting was fierce. Each Renoran met their foes with no intention of retreating; they would all fight to the bitter end. With this determination they held the line, only being pushed back for brief moments at a time by the sheer force of the Church's push and their numbers slowly dwindling as they were cut down one by one. Their king fought with equal tenacity, taking down one Church soldier after another, doing what he could to keep his troops alive and continue the defense.

As Coronam cleaved another Church soldier, he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. Thinking it was reinforcements, he let his guard down momentarily, only to receive a horrible surprise when he saw who they were.

A steady stream of Enablerese soldiers was flowing through the streets next to him. They swung their swords wildly and bellowed war cries and curses before colliding with the already damaged Renoran barricades, destroying most of them entirely. Coronam recoiled and stepped back, unsure of what to do. His lines would be decimated, and the docks would be overrun.

Coronam realized what he had to do. There was no time to evacuate his soldiers. Austin and Nitesco needed to leave now.

"Men!" he shouted to the ever-thinning number of Renoran soldiers. "Fall back to the docks! We make our stand there!"

As his men fell in behind him, sprinting to the docks, Coronam hoped that what he was about to do would pay off in the end.

* * *

After Coronam had run off to engage the invading forces, Austin had spent the next half an hour flitting about the docks, ensuring that all the soldiers were getting onto the boats as quickly as they could. Every available dock was filled, and every boat's gangplank was flooded with soldiers clamoring to get on. They were moving faster than she'd anticipated, but she could hear the din of battle moving ever closer.

"Nitesco!" she shouted to her fellow commander. Nitesco was on another boat, but he was able to hear her, and he came to the edge. "How are we doing with people?"

"We're almost there," Nitesco said. "Just a few more companies, and we'll have the full load. We can even get a few of Coronam's if they're fast enough."

"I hope so," Austin replied. As the final few soldiers made their way onto the gangplanks, a large explosion rattled everyone, and both Nitesco and Austin turned to see what made the sound. Through the smoke and dust, Austin saw Coronam sprinting into the dockyard, covered in blood from the battle.

"Go!" he shouted, waving his glaive in the air. "There's too many of them! Go!"

"What about you?" Austin yelled back.

"It doesn't matter!" Coronam replied. "I'll be fine. But you must leave now!"

Austin exchanged a conflicted glance with Nitesco, who said nothing but gave a reluctant nod. Austin sighed and turned back to Coronam.

"Godspeed, Coronam," she shouted. "Men! Get these ships ready to sail! We need to leave now!"

The ship underneath her feet lurched suddenly, beginning its escape downriver. As it pulled away, she gazed sorrowfully back at the docks, where Coronam stood, before he sank out of sight.

* * *

As Coronam watched the boats sail away, he felt some form of vindication. If he died here, he thought, he would be remembered as a hero. He would be remembered as a good king and a good commander. And there was nothing the Church could do to take that away from him.

Then, an arrow missed his head by barely an inch, reminding him that the Church wasn't quite done with him yet.

Coronam turned around and surveyed the docks: his men had suffered severe casualties, leaving him about a company's worth of men, all of whom were tired and bloodied from earlier fighting. As the final transports pulled away from the docks, the legions of Church Crusaders, Crossharish and Enablerese soldiers they had been fighting flooded into the open area, chanting and cheering for Renoran blood. As Coronam walked to the front of his men, the Church commander emerged from his lines, dressed in brilliant crimson armor with the white rose of the Church blazoned on his chest and his shield. The commander removed his helm and watched patiently as Coronam emerged from the group of Renorans.

"Greetings," he said with offputting friendliness. "I am Champion Jannis, and I represent the Church of Thorns. Are you King Coronam?"

"I am," Coronam wheezed, ignoring the pain in his chest. "What do you want with us? Haven't you taken enough?"

"It seems your fellow commanders have taken more than I have," Jannis said, smug. "They abandoned you to your fate. But you don't have to die here."

"Are you going to demand my surrender?" Coronam asked, impatient and indignant. Jannis frowned.

"I am," he admitted. "This doesn't have to end in unpleasantness. Most of your men have already died. There's no need to waste more."

Coronam sighed, deciding to hear Jannis out, if only to rally his men against it. "What do you want?" he asked.

"All I want is your peaceful surrender," Jannis said. His voice was rough, but sincere. "If you put down your arms and let us take you, we will let you leave this place alive. All we want is information on the League."

"And you'll just let us leave? With no harm to us?" Coronam asked. Jannis nodded.

"And all we'd have to do is betray our fellow soldiers?" Cinder spoke up, appearing at Coronam's side. He, too, was wounded, bleeding heavily from his right leg, but he stood proud and tall nonetheless. It made Coronam smile.

"Well," Jannis said, unsure of how to respond. "When you put it like that…"

"He's right," Coronam said. "We would have to betray our fellows. But a Renoran's vow is unbreakable, and we have sworn ourselves to the League." He turned to his soldiers and raised his glaive in the air.

"We are not oathbreakers! We are Renorans! And we will fight to the end!" Coronam's words, though few, were enough to rouse his soldiers into a reckless fury. All of them cheered and hooted together, fully aware of their impending deaths, and yet, unafraid. He turned back to Jannis, who was shaking his head disappointedly.

"A pity," he said. "But it must be done. Men," Jannis said, and squinted at Coronam. "Kill them. But leave the king for me."

"I will not be some trophy!" Coronam exclaimed, and he pointed at the Crusaders. "Men! Attack!"

The Renorans rushed forward, meeting their enemies with fearless determination. Coronam swung wildly and ferociously at the Crusaders, uncaring for his own safety. As he brought his glaive down into a Crossharish swordsman, he noticed a charging Church spearman, and narrowly dodge the incoming spear thrust.

Instead of following up, Coronam backed away as more soldiers fell upon him, trying desperately to avoid being surrounded. He viciously swung and spun his glaive at the advancing soldiers as he backpedaled, but no matter how many soldiers he cut down, more kept coming. An unarmed skirmisher swept Coronam's legs, and he stumbled backwards into somebody.

"Weak knees, my liege?" Cinder asked, and he yanked Coronam back up to his feet. Coronam staggered up and nodded to Cinder. They were both at the end of their rope: blood was running down their limbs, their armor and weapons were beginning to crack, and both of them were clearly exhausted. Still, Cinder smiled.

Coronam nodded wordlessly at him and turned his attention to the ongoing fight. The Church had eliminated most of their men, leaving only Coronam, Cinder and a handful of others alive. As Jannis emerged from the crowd, bloody greatsword in hand, Coronam readied his glaive and turned to Cinder.

"Ready to die, Cinder?' he asked raspily. Cinder nodded, his smile morphing into an expression of grim acceptance.

"Always, my lord," he responded. Jannis looked on, silently pointing his sword at the remaining Renorans before charging at Coronam himself.

Coronam met Jannis' sword with his glaive, but was quickly forced onto the defensive as Jannis swung at him repeatedly with surprising speed. Coronam attempted to stab him with his guisarme, but Jannis knocked it away with his shield.

"This was unnecessary," Jannis mused. He swung broadly at Coronam, setting him back a few feet. "You should've given in when you had the chance."

"You attacked us first!" Coronam exclaimed. He twirled his glaive at Jannis and prepared to strike, but Jannis attacked first, splitting the shaft of the glaive and leaving Coronam the blade.

"Not so," Jannis said. Another overhand swing twisted Coronam's wrist as he tried to deflect with his newly shortened weapon. "You attacked first, at Enabler. You had the opportunity to peacefully accept the shift of power, and you refused."

"It was not right!" Coronam exclaimed. "She was your puppet!" He slashed at Jannis defiantly, but Jannis merely dodged Cornam's reckless attacks and knocked the blade from his hand.

"That matters little," Jannis said, growing more and more angry. "You didn't defy us out of any moral quandary, or any love of democracy. It wasn't about principle. It was about your own wayward ambition!" Coronam attacked him, in a last show of defiance, with his fists, but Jannis struck him in the head with his shield and sent Coronam, half-unconscious, to the ground.

Coronam hit the ground hard, his head spinning and his entire body aching with the pain of exhaustion. Jannis grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head upward, so he could see the carnage left on the docks.

"And look at what it got you," Jannis chided, the disgust in his voice apparent. "Nothing. Nothing but death and destruction."

Jannis let go of Coronam's hair and walked into the field of bodies. As Coronam surveyed the battlefield, he realized that he was the only one left alive, and that he and Jannis were being watched by all the present soldiers. Jannis stood next to one of the face-down corpses and shook his head.

"I bet you don't even know their names," he chided. He grabbed the corpse by the scruff of its neck and hauled it upward, exposing its face. Cinder's lifeless eyes stared back at Coronam, his face covered in his own blood, and a gaping wound in his head exposed his brain.

"Cinder," Coronam whispered. He became aware of the tears falling down his cheeks. "His name was Cinder."

Jannis looked at the corpse and let it fall limply back to the ground. "Not anymore," he sneered.

"This is your fault," Jannis lectured him as he paced around the bodies. "All of this. If you had just accepted the natural shift of power, none of this would've happened. Your kingdom would be left intact. Your soldiers would have lived long and fruitful lives. And your friends," he said, gesturing back to Cinder, "wouldn't have had to die." Jannis kneeled in front of Coronam, meeting his steely, hateful glare. "Now," Jannis taunted, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Go to hell," Coronam spat. Jannis glared at him.

"You first," he replied, and the last thing Coronam saw was Jannis' fist headed towards his face before he sank into a deep, defeated slumber.

* * *

**I'll keep this quick: the Meta-Fic will be going into a temporary hiatus after this chapter. I'll be back soon, I promise, but I need a short break from this.**


	3. Chapter 3

**May 20, 9 ATC**

**City of Guns N' Roses, Duchy of Gunnia, Kingdom of Guns N' Roses**

When the ships arrived in port, the weight of defeat was omnipresent. Soldiers walked off the docks and into the streets, slumped and haggard, overwhelmed by shock and loss. Some lodged in the barracks in Guns N' Roses, weary and injured, while others chose to wander the streets. Even the clouds hailed their failure: storms roiled in the clouds above the city, and yet rain never came. They had all tasted bitter defeat.

The commanders were no better off than the soldiers. Upon arrival, Nitesco locked himself in the upper floor of the Badaz Manor to plan while Gwydion shut himself in the basement to tinker half-heartedly. Strike and Vulpix disappeared into their own garrison, Strike to brood and Vulpix to recover from his wounds. The Mask was relatively unaffected, Austin noted, but he had turned uncomfortably stoic, even for him. Opifexa was the most concerning: never talkative or loud to begin with, she pulled away completely, pacing around the manor grounds for hours on end, never saying a single word.

It wasn't until the morning after their return, after they had all failed to get a night's rest, that anybody confronted the situation aloud. Austin was sitting at a small table in the kitchen, poking at the bread and cheese she called her breakfast, when Gwydion ascended the stairs from the basement. His apron and gloves were coated with soot and grease, but he had nothing to show for his efforts. Austin gave him a light smile, which he returned as he sat down.

"Good morning," she said. Gwydion nodded and grabbed himself a loaf of bread and chewed on it half-heartedly. Austin too returned to a dour silence, continuing to poke at her breakfast.

At once, loud footsteps shook them from their stupor, and they both turned to see who had come to join them. Nitesco arrived in the doorway, his face grim and full of determination, which could mean only one thing: he had a plan.

"Good morning," Austin said, testing the waters. Nitesco gave her a curt nod.

"Good morning," he replied. "I need you two in the war room now. We're planning our next moves."

"You mean you don't have one already?" Gwydion asked. "I would have figured you'd have one by now."

Nitesco bobbed his head side to side, silently agreeing with Gwydion's assessment. "Well, yes and no," he said. "I'll explain in the war room. Just follow me!"

Austin and Gwydion obeyed, somewhat unnerved by Nitesco's sudden urgency. They followed him through the manor into the war room, where the Mask, Opifexa, and Strike were already seated. After exchanging quiet greetings with the others, Austin and Gwydion took their seats at the table while Nitesco unrolled a large map and set it down in front of them.

"Now," Nitesco began, "I've called you all here because I've received some very troubling reports of Church activity around here. Last night, I was thinking: why, during the chaos of the evacuation, didn't the Church send some ships downstream and take out any escapees? They knew we made our camp near the river, and they could've easily blockaded the entrance. But they didn't. I couldn't figure it out until this morning."

On cue, the side doors of the war room opened. Kazehh and Jelo, flanked by several Rosian guards, were escorted into the room. Both of them gave a quick wave to Austin, but remained uncharacteristically sullen.

"These two arrived early this morning," Nitesco explained, "with some very distressing news. Would one of you care to enlighten us?"

"Yes," Jelo said uneasily, and he pointed to Armed and Ready's location on the map. "Kazehh and I had returned to Armed and Ready after Inferno died, to rest and celebrate before we took a new contract. Unfortunately, we weren't able to do that for long.

"Two days ago, a small fleet of Ladybug ships anchored outside of port and began bombarding the town. At first, we thought it was just an attack by Inferno loyalists. We were wrong. Church soldiers began flooding off the boats and into the city, burning and killing anyone and anything in sight. We were lucky to escape the city alive." Jelo crossed his arms and returned to sullen silence.

"Armed and Ready… is gone?" Austin asked. She felt a pang of loss. Armed and Ready was as close to a home as she ever had. And now, the Church had razed it to the ground.

"It's not just Armed and Ready," Nitesco said. "The Church hit nearly every major city around the corners of Rubia. Bumblebee, Monochrome, Enabler. And guess what all those points surround."

"Guns N' Roses," Strike said. Nitesco nodded and pointed to Guns N' Roses' position on the map. The nation itself occupied a good portion of coastline and a peninsula extending the massive lake they called the Confluence, as well as the small but strategically and economically significant Gun Mountains. The city of Guns N' Roses sat on the border of the mountains and the peninsula, making it well-defended; but now that the Church had vantage points around their territory, it was surrounded.

"It would seem we are their next target," Gwydion said. His voice had lowered, and the grimness in it now matched Nitesco's. "Now what do we do?"

"Well," Opifexa began, "how long do we have to prepare for their attack?"

"Not long," Kazehh said. "A few days at most. When Jelo and I fled, the soldiers were already striking camp outside the city. They intend to attack us soon."

"And what are we going to do about it?" Strike asked. "Surely we don't intend to roll over and take it."

"Of course not," Nitesco said, his voice brittle with irritation. "But the odds of us holding this city, especially if the Church is as well-prepared as our reports say, are slim."

"Then what?" The Mask asked. "We just flee? If we're caught outside the city, the odds of our survival are even slimmer."

"What about the people?" Austin asked. "We can't just leave them!"

"We won't," Nitesco assuaged her, his voice returning to its normal, softer tone. "I'm not just going to leave my people at the Church's mercy. We're going to evacuate as many of them as we can. I have evacuation tunnels underneath the city that lead out into the Gun mountains. They'll be safe there."

"And what of our men?" Opifexa asked. "We cannot evacuate them at the same time! What if the Church attacks halfway through?"

"We keep the men in the city, as a garrison," Austin suggested. "If the Church attacks, the soldiers can delay them long enough to get the civilians out of harm's way."

"My thoughts exactly," Nitesco said, "and we will evacuate after, if there's time. But we must realize the city cannot continue to be our base of operations. It's too exposed to the Church."

"And where do you suggest we go?" The Mask asked. Nitesco took a seat and pondered the question for a few seconds, composing his response.

"We don't have that many options," he said. "I'd like to avoid larger nations like Arkos, because they'll already be significant targets for the Church. There's no need to destabilize those positions any more." Nitesco straightened up to look at Strike. "I assume you have no problem with this?"

Strike shook his head. "No. I agree, actually. Arkos is going to be on the front lines. None of our commanders could guarantee the safety of a base of operations there."

"Renora is out of the equation too," Opifexa piped up. "It's too far north for communication to be feasible, and Regent Kurosawa has enough on his mind as it is."

"Then where do we go?" Gwydion asked. "There aren't many other locations suitable for this kind of work."

"Fear not, Gwydion," Nitesco said. "I've done some thinking about this, and I have two locations in mind." He pointed at a medium-sized, landlocked nation some miles north of Arkos, away from the river. Milk and Cereal.

"Milk and Cereal could be an excellent space to set up in," Nitesco said. "It's close to the war fronts, but surrounded by friendly nations. The natural defenses offered by the mountains would make attack difficult as well. The only real problem would be communication, which would be difficult given the terrain, but that's an acceptable price for security."

"Isn't Duke McDouggal neutral, though?" Opifexa asked. Austin sighed and nodded.

"McDouggal's a stubborn man," she said, recalling her short service with him. "But he's devoted to his people. If we can convince him siding against the Church is the best move for his nation, we can get him on board."

"I wouldn't take my chances with him," the Mask said, a sneer in his voice. "He's a staunch legalist, and technically, we are in rebellion. I'd like to see our second option."

Nitesco pointed to another medium-sized nation in Rubia, this one on the shores of the Confirmed River, which ran north. Freezerburn.

"Freezerburn's a mixed bag," Nitesco conceded. "It has highlands for defense and access to the river, which are both good for us. In addition, it's on the front lines, which makes communication to our forces much easier. King Dat Game-Guy, the ruler, is also sympathetic to our cause, which would make securing it as a base of operations much easier."

"So what are the downsides?" Strike asked.

"Like I said, it's on the front lines. Rubia is a hotbed right now, which would make our holding there less secure than it would be if we stayed in Junipera. That, and the Church has a strong, if small, presence in the region, which means spies could sneak in and sabotage us."

"Spies are always a problem," Opifexa said. "The Church loves intrigue more than Inferno did. And they're better at it too."

"Freezerburn is a solution nonetheless," Nitesco said. His face had returned to the stony expression he wore when the meeting began. "We can decide on which to pursue at a later time. I'm going to talk to my lieutenants. Consider this meeting adjourned." Nitesco grabbed the map and rolled it up before walking out. The Mask, Strike, and Opifexa did the same, standing up and leaving silently, going back to whatever they did in their free time. Only Kazehh, Jelo, Gwydion, and Austin remained in the room.

"Kazehh, Jelo," Austin began. "Is it really true?"

"Yes," Kazehh said, and Austin noticed his eyes had turned red. "It's gone. I don't know what they did with it afterward, but it was ablaze when we left."

"We did all we could," Jelo said as he sat down. His expression looked equal parts angry and guilty, and he spat out his words with spite. "But there were just so many."

"Armed and Ready isn't the only one," Austin said. The two paused and turned to her, fear in their eyes. "They attacked us while we were still in Crosshares territory," Austin explained. "Coronam and most of his forces are gone. Cinder too."

"Coronam…" Jelo said, and he shook his head. "A gruff man, to be sure, but a good one. Shame."

"And Cinder too," Kazehh said. "He's the man who got us into this whole mess. It's… strange to think he's dead."

"We can't just roll over and take this," Jelo said, and he stood up from his chair. "We have to strike back. The Church can't be allowed to walk over us like this!"

"Agreed," Kazehh said, and he unsheathed his brand-new crescent axe. "I want to see those bastards bleed. We'll stand with you, if you'll have us."

"We'd love to have you," Gwydion said. "And we'd be willing to pay—"

"Fuck payment," Jelo interrupted. He unbuckled his weapon, a newly crafted morning star, and let it fall onto the table with a satisfying thump. "I don't care about money. This is personal now."

"They took our home," Kazehh said, a rare grimace appearing on his face. "They won't take anybody else's if I can help it."

"Then we'll gladly accept your help," Gwydion said with a weary smile. He patted Jelo on the shoulder. "Go get some rest. You two must be exhausted."

"Talk to you later," Austin offered. Kazehh and Jelo smiled and nodded but left in silence, leaving her alone with Gwydion. A tense silence fell over the room, and Gwydion sighed.

"What is wrong?" Gwydion finally asked. Austin took a seat at the table and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You know," she said, sniffling. "It's been, what, eight months since I first met you guys? For eight months, it's been nothing but victory after victory. I got closure about my father. Won a few battles. Became a leader of the League, for crying out loud." She paused. "I guess I forgot what defeat felt like."

Gwydion made a breathy sound, expressing sympathy or pity, Austin couldn't tell which. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"But that's not all, is it?" His voice was gentle and fatherly. Austin took a deep breath. She shook her head.

"I was… thinking," she said, sheepish. "Thinking about the people I let down. The soldiers that died. The soldiers we left behind. I didn't just fail you guys." She paused, glancing over at the chair Opifexa had been sitting in. "I failed them too."

"Ah," Gwydion said. "You mean Coronam."

"Yes," Austin admitted. Gwydion nodded, understanding.

"I know that feeling," he said. "I know it all too well. It still cuts deep, even in old age."

"It still weighs on you?"

"It doesn't for most," Gwydion said, "but I've always been prone to melancholy, and they were very good friends of mine. Jaeger, Inferno, Samurai, Quixotic…" He trailed off, deciding it was likely better not to finish his list. "I'll never forget them. And as tempting as it can be to blame yourself, you must realize it's not your fault."

"How?" Austin asked. "How can I tell myself that? I'm the commander of the League! I had a duty to my men! And now how many of them are lying dead in that city? With Coronam?"

"You did everything you could," Gwydion said, unsure of whether that was the best answer. "That's all we can ask of you. You must remember, Austin, that the more you blame yourself, the less you blame who's really responsible: The Church."

Austin stayed still for a bit, mulling Gwydion's words before she let out a defeated sigh. "I suppose you're right. The Church must pay" she said. As she said the words, her face soured, and her words hardened. "The Church must pay," she repeated, her words determined and sharp.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Gwydion chided. "They will, in time. Don't let your ardor blind you to the consequences of your actions." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Nitesco did that, and he regrets it to this day."

Austin looked toward the door. "His guilt weighs heavy on him too," she said. "Even I can see that."

"Nitesco is yet young," Gwydion said. "He's only, what, four years older than you are? He has the vigor of youth, but also the tempestuousness." Gwydion folded his hands. "Nitesco will sulk and pace, but he will still do his duty. He never lets his emotions get in the way of that, and neither should you."

Austin nodded, again absorbing Gwydion's words. "I guess you're right." She laughed weakly. "I'm getting a bit too torn up over this, aren't I?"

"No," Gwydion said. "It's good that you care. But you can't shoulder all the blame, alright?" Austin nodded, and he patted her shoulder. "I'm going to go down to the docks. I think I left a few things on the boat. Stay out of trouble."

"You know me," Austin said, and she gave an empty laugh. Gwydion left without another word, and she was left alone.

Austin looked out the window, into the city, at the massive bronze statue in the central square. The four ANGQ commanders stared out across the landscape: Quixotic out at the Confluence, Gwydion over the Gun Mountains, Nitesco over the edge of the city and into the peninsula, and Austin, her father, at the Badaz Manor. She met her father's lifeless bronze gaze. It seemed to speak to her.

She would not fail her father's legacy, Austin promised herself. The Church would pay for their crimes. The Church would burn.

* * *

**May 25, 9 ATC**

**Free City of Pollination, Pollination-Crosshares Commonwealth**

Zissman was practically burning up in his new getup. The new cloak he had made for the occasion was a mix of black and dark red, trapping the heat under his clothes as he walked to the meeting hall under the late spring sun. If he spontaneously combusted before he got there, he wouldn't be surprised.

Jannis and Draco looked little better. Their armor sagged and chafed as they walked beside him, and both of them looked sluggish and tired. Draco seemed less worse for wear, being acclimated to temperatures like this, but Jannis looked almost as miserable as Zissman. Living in the cold Northlands did little to prepare either of them for the heat of the south, and every summer served as a cruel reminder of that.

At last, they reached the meeting hall, outside of which a statue of King Inferno CLXVII stared down at them. Its gaze seemed hostile and accusatory. Zissman grumbled and ignored it as he walked in.

The foyer was practically empty, Zissman saw, save for a handful of his men, Anti, and Faker. Faker sat at a table, sipping a glass of wine, while Anti paced impatiently. Zissman clapped his hands as he walked over to them.

"Anti, Faker!" The two of them looked up at him with disinterest. "How are we today?"

"You're late," Anti said flatly. Zissman looked up at a clock, which told him he was six minutes early.

"Am I?"

"You may as well be," Anti said. "The lords are growing restless. Most of them are only here because you strongarmed them into coming, and this isn't exactly doing you any favors."

"Then let's not keep them waiting any longer," Zissman said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Faker, Anti, you know your lines?"

"I used to be an actor," Faker said with a hint of pride. "I can sell it."

"Excellent." Zissman turned to Draco and Jannis. "Draco, Jannis, would you please get the centerpiece? My speech won't be half as effective without it."

Draco and Jannis exchanged glances, but obeyed. As Faker and Anti walked off to join the assembled lords, Zissman took a deep breath. This was the moment he had been waiting for since he'd met Inferno.

"Alright, Irving," he said to himself. "Showtime!"

Zissman walked out onto the balcony above the assembled lords, who were engaged in loud conversation. A representative of every nation that aligned itself with Inferno was in the crowd, bickering and debating over whatever mundane topics interested them. After a few moments, the assembly quieted down after seeing Zissman had finally deigned to arrive.

"Brothers and sisters!" he said, his voice swelling in his lungs and echoing over the chamber. The assembly fell into silence at the sound of Zissman's commanding voice. "I have gathered you here to discuss the future of the Subreddit."

"Get to the damn point!" One of the representatives yelled, and a few of the other diplomats laughed at his audacity. Zissman clucked his tongue in irritation, but kept his smile plastered to his face.

"Inferno is dead," he announced, and this statement was enough to bring them back to attention. Everyone knew that Inferno was gone, but the stark reality of the situation was enough to jostle them back into a deferential silence. The security of their investment in Inferno's cause hinged on how this meeting ended.

"Inferno is dead," he repeated, "and for the moment, our movement is headless. We have gathered here to elect a new head of state in her stead."

At this, a clamor rose up. Some of the lords recognized their opportunity to seize the reins, while others began chatting amongst themselves, debating who the replacement would be. Zissman had already decided. He called them all to silence.

"My friends, please," he said. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, before this pointless bickering gets out of hands, may I ask you to consider one alternative to Inferno's succession?"

"And who would that be?" Another faceless lord spoke up. Zissman flashed a charismatic smile.

"The Church of Thorns," he said. Instantly, the crowd erupted in more clamor. The ambitious and proud began throwing questions and accusations at him, the more neutral representatives began talking amongst themselves, pondering what this would mean for them and their roles. The wisest of them began speaking sullenly within their delegations, already knowing how the meeting would end. Only Anti and Faker remained silent, staring up at Zissman with expectant expressions.

As the clamor cooled, Faker stood to deliver his line. "On what grounds," he asked, with a surprisingly convincing delivery, "do you claim command? You're a religious leader, not nobility!"

Cries of assent. Faker looked pleased with himself. Zissman felt his fake smile turn genuine at the delicious irony and leaned forward.

"Inferno made the Church of Thorns her state church," Zissman said. "And I'm sure you'd be interested to know that the lords of Crosshares and Pollination have already consented to the Church's ascent to leadership of her Commonwealth. Why should we not take her mantle of sovereign as well?"

The representatives once more began to chatter amongst themselves, and Zissman felt himself beginning to grow very irritated with this cycle. Faker let it peter out before delivering his next line.

"Regardless of your legitimacy, the Church isn't strong enough to fight, let alone lead, our war. It has no military, nor experience in the military. And it certainly doesn't have the influence that even the smallest lord here has."

Zissman turned around and saw that Draco and Jannis had returned, both holding the centerpiece of his demonstration. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and engaged Faker again.

"We have no power, you say?" he asked in a knowing tone. "Well, I have news for you. Most of you may not know, but the Church does have a militant wing: we have multiple legions of Church Crusaders, all trained in the arts of war and strategy."

"You're lying," Faker said, suppressing a knowing smirk. "Even if the Church had these resources, they wouldn't be enough to face the League."

"Oh really?" Zissman asked, and his eagerness was now obvious. "I have more news, then. One week ago, my men attacked the League at the occupied city they were using as a base. Not only did we devastate their manpower and force them to retreat, but we obtained a prize that Inferno never could: the capture of King Coronam!"

Jannis and Draco walked up to the balcony and, for everyone to see, pushed a bound and gagged King Coronam onto the railing. The crowd went wild. The representatives exploded into frantic discussion once again, almost disbelieving of what Zissman presented to them. A few of the more suspicious members of the assembly went up to the edge of the balcony to see if it was really King Coronam, while the more bloodthirsty members clamored up with them and hurled insults and objects at the captive king. Coronam said nothing, nor did he attempt to speak through his gag; he merely glared hatefully back at the japing throng. Zissman waved for Jannis and Draco to take him away while he returned to his speech.

"You see, the Church is more than capable of leading us to victory. Was this war not meant to restructure the Subreddit? To uproot the stagnant old order and replace it with something new? Already my armies march across Rubia, poised to strike down Nitesco and Austin and the rest of their pathetic League. We are the new way. We carry the new message, and we ask you to side with us."

As a contemplative hush fell over the assembly, Anti stood up and delivered her speech. "I will side with the Church," she announced. "It's clear to me that they are the only option. They accomplished in a month what Inferno could not in eight! This Subreddit is old, and stagnant. I say out with the old! Out with old rivalries! Out with outdated traditions! Out with the old order and in with the new! The Church will lead us to greatness!" She pressed her right palm to her chest and folded her left fist over it in the salute of the Church. "Long live the Church!"

"Long live the Church!" Another man echoed, and he stood and did the salute as well. Yet another woman stood, and another, and another, all chanting "long live the Church" as they swore fealty to them. Soon the entire assembly, willing or otherwise, stood and gave the salute.

Zissman felt a rush. It was an intoxicating feeling of possibility, the feeling of long-laid plans coming to their inevitable fruition. He had half the Subreddit pledged to the Goddess, and he eagerly awaited the battles that laid ahead in her service. Soon, the whole Subreddit would belong to the Goddess, the greatest offering anyone had given to her, and Zissman would guide them to it.

He turned to look behind him, to see what Draco and Jannis had to say. Draco, true to form, had also folded his hands in the salute, and he wore a smile that conveyed both joy and bloodthirst. Zissman was pleased with himself; he had taught Draco well.

He turned to Jannis next, who, while he was saluting, wore a sullen expression. Jannis stared at Zissman, a somber stare that made Zissman slightly uncomfortable.

"Long live the Church," Zissman said.

"Long live the Church," Jannis replied, and his gaze did not waver.

Zissman ignored his disposition. He made a note to himself not to bring Jannis out in hot weather. It clearly made him irritable.

He turned back to the crowds, to their chanting of loyalty that pledged them the Goddess and to the Church as their shepherd. He found his smile returning to him naturally.

"Long live the Church," he cried. "Long live the Church."


	4. Chapter 4

**May 27, 9 ATC **

**Outside the City of Guns N' Roses**_**, **_**the Confluence**

Anti looked out over the waters of the Confluence, staring at the city of Guns N' Roses. The city was lit only by torchlight and moonlight, and Anti was jealous of even that. Zissman wanted their attack to catch them flatfooted, which meant they couldn't be seen as they approached in the night. Of course, this also meant navigating a fleet of river boats in the darkness of the night, for torchlight might alert the watchmen to their advance. Her ship had already been scuffed by three separate riverships on the way over, and if it kept up, she would have to give it a new paint job.

Anti ran her hand along the railing of her rivership, the _River Princess._ It had been a birthday gift from her father shortly before the end of Celtic's Revolt. For nearly ten years, it had served her faithfully, and she would never forgive herself if it was destroyed during the attack. She cast a glance at the man who had taken the helmsman's spot. Draco. She reminded herself to keep him away from the wheel at all costs.

The _Herald_, Zissman's personal rivership, pulled up next to the _River Princess _and dropped anchor. The men on Zissman's ship threw a gangplank over the gap between the two vessels and Zissman, ever flanked by Church soldiers, boarded Anti's ship.

"Anti," he said with far too much eagerness. "How is the fleet? Are we prepared to attack?"

Anti gave a brief glance at the ships around her. The seaships, strong and mighty, stood poised to barrage the city walls. Around them, the riverships swam about, each one bristling quietly with the conversation of the soldiers aboard. She nodded.

"We are," she said. "The seaships will weigh anchor and bombard the walls near the docks from here. Under the cover of their fire, the riverships and the soldiers on them will dock and storm the city."

Privately, Anti had her reservations about the plan. The seaships were the biggest part of it: for one, they were bulky and tough to maneuver in the shallower inland waters, which would make them easy targets, even at night. Second, a large part of their seaships had been diverted to this operation. The river navies of the Badaz League and Zissman's coalition were evenly matched, but the League had a much larger sea navy. If any seaships were lost, it would be a serious blow to the Church. Sending the riverships in under their fire also seemed to be a risk, both to the ships and the men, but Jannis and Faker had come up with this plan themselves. She trusted them enough to believe it would work, but she would tread carefully, nonetheless.

Zissman seemed to be satisfied with her recitation of the plan and gave an approving nod. "I trust you to coordinate these efforts," he said. "Will you be leading the charge or staying behind? You can stay on the _Herald,_ if you wish."

"I'll lead the charge," she said, "but I won't be going into the city. Draco will do that."

"Why not just stay behind, then?" Zissman asked. "It would be safer, especially if you're not debarking."

Anti ran her hand along the vessel's railing and smiled. "The _River Princess_ is my ship," she said, looking up at Draco. He was eyeing the steering wheel with far too much curiosity for her taste. "I don't trust anyone else with it. Besides, it's only fair that I go into this with my fleet."

"Fair enough," Zissman said. He plucked absentmindedly at the rose pendant he wore.

"Will you be joining the battle?" Anti asked. Zissman chuckled and shook his head.

"No," he said. "Jannis is the Church's military leader. I'm the spiritual leader, the political leader." He placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. "I'm alright with a sword, though I doubt I could help myself in a battle. It's why I remain back here."

"As you wish," Anti said. Her voice carried a trill of superiority that Zissman noticed, but he said nothing. "When should we begin?"

Zissman squinted at the city lights in the distance and clicked his tongue. "Give me five minutes to get out of range," he said. "Then, do as you please. Jannis and Faker will join your attack from the land, but they are waiting for your attack to begin."

"As you wish," Anti repeated. "Out of curiosity, can you swim?"

Zissman's face soured at the implication, but he nodded. "Every northern boy is taught to swim," he said, "in case we fall through the ice."

"You may need it," Anti said. "We'll probably draw most of their fire, but I can't promise all of it."

"Understandable," Zissman said. "Now, I believe I should take my leave. We've waited long enough." He called for his guards and retreated back onto the _Herald_ without another word, and as soon as the gangplank was hauled back onto the ship, it quickly sailed out of sight.

Anti turned her attention to the impending attack, doing a quick tally of the ships in the water. She found that they were all there, and she ascended to the helm of the vessel.

Draco watched her as she took the wheel before turning his attention to the city. Underneath the helmet Zissman had commissioned for him, which had metal imprints of thorny vines all across the faceplate, she could tell he was smiling.

"Victory is in our grasp," he said, staring eagerly at the city walls. "Soon, Nitesco, Austin, and the rest of these heretics will trouble us no more."

"Victory will have to wait," Anti remarked. "The battle hasn't even begun."

Draco laughed at that, but he kept quiet. All the better, Anti thought. The less he talked, the more focused she could be.

A few more minutes passed, as Zissman directed, and she could hear her crew growing restless. At last, she signalled to her gunners that the assault would begin shortly. She turned the boat sideways, so her cannons could face the city.

"Alright, men," she said. "Fire when ready."

* * *

Opifexa wandered out onto the docks, peacefully meandering through the port. The docks were practically empty at this time of night, save for a few dockhands making sure the riverships in port were properly anchored. Most of Guns N' Roses' navy was deployed elsewhere, meaning there were few ships, and thus, few people. All the better for her.

Opifexa walked out onto one of the empty docks, looking out onto the Confluence. The lake seemed empty, and it was deceptively quiet, but she could tell there were a few ships still out there. Probably just fishing ships, though, she knew some of the fishermen went out at night to gather fish.

"I've missed this," she muttered to herself. Walking along the seashores of Renora often cleared her head, and though the Confluence was a smaller substitute, it would have to do. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the silence.

Suddenly, a loud bang shocked her back to reality. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw a cannonball fly over her head and explode into the city wall behind her, erupting in a plume of smashed brick. Opifexa glanced back at the lake and saw the bright flashes of gunpowder coming off of ships in the lake, hailing the city with cannonballs. Opifexa didn't have time to think about who or how or why they were attacking. She just ran.

By the time she had climbed the capitol hill and returned to the Badaz Manor, the rest of the commanders had already assembled in the war room and were already chattering wildly amongst themselves. Nitesco, still in his sleepwear, hunched over a map of the city and was marking locations with a feather and ink. Gwydion and Austin, both already wearing leather armor and chain mail respectively, stared out the window at the city and barked locations at Nitesco, who scribbled them down at the map. Strike and Vulpix, both clearly exhausted, wore crinkled crimson uniforms. Strike stood next to Nitesco, watching him mark up the map, while Vulpix sat patiently with his crutches on his lap.

At once, Austin turned to see Opifexa standing in the doorway. "Opifexa!" She cried, and the room momentarily stopped buzzing to look up at her. "Where have you been?"

"Doing my midnight rounds at the docks," she said. "I ran back when their warships started shelling us."

"They're shelling the docks too?" Nitesco frantically asked. He quickly dipped his feather in the inkwell and scribbled more symbols around the dock's locations on the map.

"They're attacking us from all sides," Vulpix said uneasily. "Our scouts have reported that the enemy is massing at the walls, from both the peninsula and the plains toward the mountains. If they're attacking us from the water, we're totally surrounded."

"Your scouts got all of this already?" Opifexa asked.

"The capitol hill offers a good view of the surroundings," Strike said, not looking up from the map. "From the parapets of the castle or the parliament building, you can see most of the surrounding land. Even from here, we can see where they're trying to break through."

"Nitesco and I reinforced the walls after Celtic's Revolt," Gwydion spoke up, staring out the window. "They will hold, but not forever. At this rate, I estimate the city will be overrun by noon tomorrow."

"Noon," Opifexa breathed. So soon. They had thirteen to fourteen hours to hold out, and maybe get the refugees out on the way. "What will we do?"

"I plan to evacuate as many citizens as I can," Nitesco said, and he looked up from his scribblings. He had tears in his eyes. "I left them behind, once. I won't do that again."

"We won't be able to get them all out," Strike said. "At best, we could evacuate half. The tunnel is narrow, and we have thousands of people on our hands."

Nitesco looked down at the table and rapped his knuckles against it impatiently. "Damn it," he said. "Damn it!" he exclaimed again, and he slammed his hand onto the table. The inkwell fell over and began dripping onto the floor.

"There is nothing we can do except get an early start," Austin counseled. "These are your people. They will listen to you. Take the city guard and round them up. Get them through the escape passage. The remaining commanders can be divided up through the city."

"Our barracks are closest to the docks," Strike said, his voice uncharacteristically mellow. "I will lead the defense there. If they are shelling us there with so few ships in port, then they must mean to invade from there too."

"I can't much walk," Vulpix admitted, gesturing to his crutches. "But I can lead the defense of the capitol hill. The tunnel begins under the Parliament building, correct?"

"In the courtyard, in the mausoleum," Nitesco said.

"Then I will stay here. The road up the hill leads to the King's castle. I'll spare a few men to watch over the manor and the Parliament building, but I'll command the bulk of them from the castle."

Nitesco nodded. "Austin," he asked. "Can I trust you with the city's defense?"

"Yes" Austin said. "When they break through, we need to buy as much time for the citizens as possible. I can do that for you."

"I'll stay behind with Austin," Gwydion volunteered. Opifexa stepped forward. "I will as well," she said, though deep down she was afraid.

Nitesco shook his head. "No. I need you both to see to the citizens. Opifexa, I'm going to post you on capitol hill with Vulpix. While I go around and gather the people, you direct them to the tunnel. And Gwydion?" Gwydion nodded resolutely. "You will take a few men and go ahead to the end of the tunnel. If the camp at the end is compromised, we're trapped."

"Understood," he muttered gravely. The room went quiet for a second, and Nitesco sighed. "Twice in a month," he said. "Damn it all."

"Forgive me if I seem brusque," Strike said, "but we don't have time to waste. We must depart immediately!"

"Yes," Nitesco said, his resolve returning to him. "Yes, you're right." He walked out of the room to grab his clothes and his weapons, and the rest of the commanders remained there in silence.

"Anyone have anything else to say?" Austin asked. Gwydion shook his head and gave a faint smile.

"If I die," he said, "tell the world my last words were something clever." His jest elicited an uneasy chuckle from Vulpix and Austin, but the room quickly fell silent again.

"Let's get to work," Strike said, and they finally dispersed.

As the rest went their separate ways, Strike hurried down the capitol hill and toward the docks to see what the damage was. To his surprise, the dock remained largely intact, and several platoons' worth of Arkosian soldiers were already there, setting up barricades. Strike took a reassured breath and observed his surroundings.

Each individual dock was large enough to dock a heavy rivership, but most were empty. In fact, all were empty, the few ships in port having been destroyed by cannon fire. The night fog was illuminated with every volley from the ships on the lake, lighting up the seaships bombarding the walls and the Ladybug riverships advancing under their fire. No doubt each one was armed with a full platoon of soldiers ready to disembark. Strike grumbled and observed the Arkosian's hastily constructed defenses.

The men had erected a few crude barricades on the main causeway. All of the city's docks led back to that single causeway, which led out of a gate in the city walls. If the gate was closed and the causeway barricaded, they could presumably hold the dock much longer than anticipated.

"Men!" he roared. A quick check of the path into the city told him no more reinforcements would be arriving. "Prepare the barricades! Close the gate! Fall in on the main causeway!"

The men did as they were told, a full battalion's worth of men standing tall and strong, staring out at the Confluence. The waves had begun to churn as a squall began settling in on the lake, and the waters erupted periodically from the cannons on the city walls. A few advancing ships were struck and began floundering in the water, but one ship dodged all the cannonballs and continued a steady course toward the docks.

"Stand hard, men!" Strike bellowed. The ship suddenly jerked to the side and drifted violently toward the dock. It struck the dock full on the side, dislodging a few of its cannons as it steadied itself. As soon as it leaned toward the now-splintered dock, men began swarming out from the innards of the ship and descending on the Arkosians.

Strike roared and resisted the urge to charge to the front. If he died and was unable to command, who would take his place? He directed a few men lagging at the back to go and fan out to the sides as more enemy riverships pulled up at the docks at the sides.

"To the flanks! The flanks, you greens!" He screamed at the men at the back and pointed at the left flank, which was suddenly a nest of Ladybug soldiers. Strike became so invested in diverting men there that he did not notice men creeping up on him from the right until he heard one scream behind him.

Strike whirled around and raked his sword across the man's jaw, sending a gruesome spray of blood and teeth in the air as his assailant collapsed backward. As the men from the right flank smashed into the causeway, Strike found himself surrounded. He kicked back a soldier and struck down another two, but more and more kept coming. Strike roared and charged into the throng, slashing the leg of a Ladybug soldier and descending into the fray.

The causeway was now swarming with men, and Strike could barely tell which men were his and which were trying to kill him. The Ladybug soldiers wore black uniforms with their red insect emblazoned over the heart, while the Arkosians wore their crimson uniforms. As both became drenched with blood, the colors of red and black blended together, and Strike felt himself stumbling through the chaos, swinging wildly at any sword that came within reach.

At last, Strike emerged on the other side, tacking a vulnerable soldier and jamming his sword through the man's throat. As he wrenched it out, he stumbled out onto the left docks. Another ship muscled in port, this one more richly colored and slightly larger than the rest. Instead of the common Ladybug infantry, Church soldiers, clad in white armor and crimson capes, emerged from the boat. At their head was a man dressed in gleaming silver armor, with engravings of thorny vines inlaid in his armor. He brandished a scimitar and stared directly at Strike before pointing at him and issuing an order to his men.

The Church knights ran at Strike, but as he prepared a defense, they ran past him and into the fray. Strike turned and cast a knowing glance at the armored man, who he could tell was smiling beneath that helmet of his.

"And who might you be?" Strike asked. The silver man stopped about ten feet away from Strike and gave a mocking bow.

"Draco," he said. "A soldier of the church. And you are Colonel Strike."

"My reputation precedes me," Strike replied.

"You should be a general," Draco stated. Strike was caught off-guard by this comment, but he kept his poise.

"I think I earned that promotion some time ago," Strike replied. "General Zealander disagrees."

"Oh no," Draco said, chuckling darkly. "I just wanted my first kill in battle to be a general."

"Oh," Strike said, disappointed. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"We'll see if you do," Draco said. And suddenly he charged.

* * *

"General Zealander?"

Vulpix ignored the voice. He was sitting in the castle's war room, poring over the plans of the city. Scouts wandered in and out of the room to give him succinct reports before disappearing, leading Vulpix to rapidly mark up the map. The walls still held strong in most areas, but a few reports of enemy soldiers in the city led him to believe that someone had breached the walls somewhere. That was his main concern now.

"General Zealander?" A voice asked again. He grumbled and turned to the scout, a young man, barely above enlistment age, with wispy stubble on the edges of his jaw. Vulpix pursed his lips.

"Is it a breach?" he asked.

"It will be if it's not dealt with," the boy replied. Vulpix sighed and grabbed his crutches. He limped outside as the boy led him to the precipice of capitol hill.

The scout pointed down at the docks as Vulpix hobbled over to him. The docks were a mess, and much sooner than expected or desired. The causeway swarmed with Ladybug and Arkos soldiers brutally slaughtering each other, so much so that the waters around the causeway were turning red with blood.

"The enemy has disembarked," the scout observed. "And more are coming. While the seaships bombard the walls, the riverships deposit the men on the dock. There are too many. Our men are doomed."

Vulpix did not need to be told; he could see it for himself. Soon, the entire Arkosian unit would be overrun and slaughtered, and then the gate would be forced open. He had to act.

The rain began descending. Vulpix could feel the cold drops on his skin and the chilly draft of the ever-strengthening wind. He clenched his fists.

"Tell the cannons to turn their fire onto the docks," he said. The scout looked at him in shock.

"Sir?" he asked. "Our men are down there! We can't just fire on them!"

"You said yourself that those men are doomed," Vulpix snapped. "There's no use in prolonging it. Give the order or I will find someone who will."

The boy looked down, unsure of whether to protest or to obey. He opted for the latter. "I will relay your order," he said softly. The boy gave a final, regretful look at Vulpix before starting down the hill toward the walls.

On the left side of the docks, Vulpix saw Strike locked in battle with a silver-armored warrior. He fought valiantly and with poise. But he fought in vain.

"Strike," Vulpix whispered. "Forgive me." He wiped the rain from his eyes and turned back toward the castle.

* * *

Draco was an opponent unlike any Strike had faced before. He was only two inches taller than him, three at the most, but he carried the leverage of a man at least two feet taller than Strike in his blows. Every clash of swords was a test of Strike's strength. Every parry was a test of Strike's blade. His defensive ability was being pushed to its limits.

It wasn't just Draco's strength, though. It was his attitude. Strike could feel it in every one of Draco's movements: not just the frenzy of battle, but a fierce, crackling hatred. Draco was filled with anger, but he was also filled with zeal and conviction, with a compulsion to exterminate everyone he deemed a heretic— a category Strike fell into.

"Die, heretic!" As the storm picked up around them, Draco made his point known with another crushing blow. Strike barely backpedaled in time to evade it. Draco spun around and delivered a few more savage strikes, all of which Strike parried, but not without great difficulty.

"Get back, you damned brute!" Strike cried, and he managed to push Draco back a pace. Draco laughed.

"You tire," he taunted. "I don't." He wound up for another attack. "You die!"

Strike charged him as he was winding up, thrusting his sword at Draco's stomach. Draco stumbled backward to evade it and lost his balance, tumbling back a few steps before falling on his back.

"Not today," Strike spat. Draco grunted and sat up, only for something up on the city wall to catch his attention.

"Aim at the docks!" Strike heard someone yell. Confused, he turned his attention to the city walls and saw, to his horror, that the cannons previously aimed at the seaships were now pointing down at him.

"Fire!" The artilleryman yelled. Strike managed to eke out a small shout of surprise as he saw the flash of the cannon fire. He turned to shield himself from the incoming projectile.

The cannonball hit the dock beneath him, erupting between Draco and himself. He felt himself lifted into the air by the explosion and, for a brief instant, saw Draco in the same position as himself.

Strike felt little in that brief instant. He expected to feel something overwhelming, some sort of anger, or sadness, or fear. Instead, he only felt an odd, disappointing sense of reality— _I have been betrayed_— as he floated through the air.

Then, he felt the water. Then, he felt nothing.

* * *

When she had first arrived in the main city, Austin had found Kazehh and Jelo already there, coordinating the defense with the ease and effectiveness, if not the tact, that she would expect from her own officers. They became her hands during the battle, guiding and scouting where she could not. A few hours ago, they estimated that the walls would hold until mid-morning. Then, until dawn. Then, when news of the breaches began spreading, long enough to evacuate this half of the city.

Austin stood in the main square of Guns N' Roses, relaying orders to her lieutenants, hoping that the walls would hold for another hour. The city guard guided civilians, shepherding as many as they could through the cramped streets. Children, adults, old men and women, it didn't matter. Austin could plainly see that they were all afraid.

Kazehh stumbled through the street toward her, his face alight with worry. Austin noticed him as she turned from a concerned civilian, who had lost his elderly mother in the panic, and saw Jelo walking up the street perpendicular to him. She beckoned for them to sit down on a bench to catch their breath.

"Report," she commanded. There was no time for courtesy. Jelo sharply inhaled and raised his hand.

"The docks are a mess," he said. "Ladybug riverships landed and deployed soldiers. An Arkosian garrison was there to slow them, and they closed the gates, but there was only so much they could do."

"What is being done?" Austin asked. She hadn't set nearly as many defenses around the road leading to the dock. If the enemy breached there, they would surely surround Austin and her men.

Jelo swallowed uncomfortably and leaned forward. "Last I heard… General Vulpix ordered the cannons to fire on the docks.

Austin was surprised. Such an extreme action did not befit Vulpix's temperament… but he must have realized the importance of keeping the enemy from the docks as well. "I heard Colonel Strike was at the docks," she said. "Any word on his fate?"

"If he was at the docks," Jelo said, "he is likely dead."

Austin sighed and placed her hands on her hips. Another good man lost to this pointless fight. She turned to Kazehh. There was no time to waste grieving right now.

"Kazehh," she said. "The situation at the gates. How is it?"

"They're breaking out the big guns," Kazehh said, and he sat down on a bench to catch his breath. "The gates will be down within the hour."

"That's not good," Jelo said.

"They've got a battering ram lined up at the south gate," Kazehh said. Austin's eyes widened. A battering ram? The gates would be down within ten minutes, then. They would have to shore up their defenses, and fast.

"Are you sure it's that close?" Austin asked. "If they've got a battering ram, we'll be up to our eyeballs in Church soldiers once the gate comes down."

Almost on cue, the three of them heard a loud cracking sound, like the snapping of a crisp branch or a bone, which was followed by a sound like a thousand panicked screams. It came from the direction of the south gate. The Church had arrived.

"Men!" Austin bellowed. The soldiers did not need to be told what to do; they all rushed to grab their weapons, knowing that the Church was at their doorstep. Austin turned to Kazehh and Jelo, noting the determination and the fear in their eyes. "It's time," she said, somber. Kazehh and Jelo nodded and grabbed their weapons, following her to the scene of the breach.

Already, it was a bloodbath. The square in front of the gateway, which had once been filled with merchants, singers, and peddlers was now filled with soldiers stabbing and swinging and dying. On one side, the soldiers of the League, wearing their wide array of colors, struggled against the tide of the Church. The Church knights, dressed in resplendent white armor and crimson cloaks, advanced relentlessly.

"Are you ready?" Austin asked Kazehh and Jelo. They both nodded.

"They'll sing songs about this day," Jelo said, a forced smile plastered to his face.

"If I die," Kazehh said, "tell them I said something clever before I did."

"Fine last words," Austin commented, a smile creeping onto her face. "Attack!"

They descended into the melee, and almost instantly, Jelo and Kazehh disappeared into the madness. Austin slashed and stabbed, swung and bit, parried and ducked, but the tide kept coming. An Enablerish spearman lunged at her. A sword through his bowels. A Church knight blocked her overhand with his shield. A foot on his throat. A Pollinational skirmisher tried to run. Another man's arrow in his back before he took his third step. Austin drowned in the frenzy of battle, in the cold rain and thunder that descended on them as they fought, and somehow came out on the other side.

Somehow, during the fight, they had all migrated back to the square, at the foot of the bronze statue of Team ANGQ. Austin leaned against the statue's base to catch her breath and observe the battle. Her defenses were holding as strong as they could, but they were being pushed back despite their best efforts. Then, she saw something moving in the melee. Something bright. Something red. Jannis emerged from the fray wearing a magnificent crimson set of armor with a white rose painted on his chest and his shield. Unlike the rest of the Church soldiers, his cape was white, and the rose on it was red instead.

"Champion Jannis," she said. He smiled and gave a bow.

"Commander Austin." He let his greatsword fall to his side. "What a coincidence, to see you here. Would you like another minute to catch your breath?"

"It was a mistake to let you live in Pollination," she spat. Jannis sighed.

"And yet you did nothing," he said, his disappointment audible. "That is this Subreddit's plague. You are all stagnant. Inactive. Unwilling to change. We will heal this place."

"You will destroy this place!" Austin was seized with a sudden fury, and she charged Jannis. He lifted his shield and blocked her attack, but did not try to strike back.

"What peace does not come without sacrifice?" he asked. "We extended an olive branch, and you knocked it from our hand. Now we must make peace instead of forge it." He swung at Austin a few times, broad, lazy strikes that she easily avoided.

"Peace?" She growled and attacked. Jannis deflected her attacks and thrusted back at her with surprising speed; the sparring gloves were off. "This war was your fault! How long have you prepared this? How long have you set this up? This is all because of you and your damned Church!" She attacked again, and Jannis willingly took the defensive, knocking aside her strikes with his shield and a good bit of difficulty.

"You were the ones who rose up, in Enabler," Jannis pointed out. "You, Nitesco, Coronam. You would seek to usurp what was rightfully ours."

"Lies!" Austin charged again. Jannis rolled backward and into a bench, and barely recovered in time to avoid Austin's followup. "All we wanted was—"

"Power!" Jannis finished. "Power was your only aim. Or at least, Nitesco's."

"Nitesco is a good man!" Austin roared. She deflected another hit from Jannis, only to receive a knock to the head from his shield, which she stumbled away from. Her nose was covered in blood, and possibly broken.

"Nitesco is just like the rest of them!" Jannis said. "What does he fight for? Peace? Yet here, he leads the entire Subreddit into war! Duty? His duty was to obey Inferno, and yet he revolted for his own ends! His people? And yet, here we stand in his people's blood, for he had brought the war to them! He is a liar, like the rest of them!"

"You're no better!" she screamed, and she slashed him across the face. The blow cut him across the lip and the right side of his nose, barely missing his eye. He stepped backward in surprise.

"I fight for my goddess," he said, suddenly cold. As she reared up to attack again, Jannis kicked her in the chest and to the ground. She felt an explosion of pain in her chest, certain that Jannis had broken a rib or two. He stood over her menacingly. "What do you fight for?"

Suddenly, there was someone behind him. Jannis caught a glimpse of them in the reflection of the bronze statue and, as an axe blade flew towards his head, he narrowly ducked out of the way. The swing took a lock of his hair, and he stumbled back. He heard another person behind him and stepped to the side as a morning star came down and nicked his shield.

Jelo brandished his morning star at Jannis, looking proud and determined in equal measure. Kazehh, however, looked hateful, and he stepped in between Jannis and a recovering Austin.

"Jannis," Kazehh sneered. "So that's your name."

"Step aside, grunt." Jannis's eyes darted between Jelo and Kazehh both, unsure of whether to attack or stay still. "I have a conversation to finish."

Jelo's hair was slick with rain and blood, matted flat against his head, but still he looked strong. "Don't make this hard on yourself," he said. "Run back to the Church."

"No," Jannis said. Suddenly, he swung at Jelo, who barely had time to step back. Kazehh was on top of him, swinging his axe in a wild blur. Jannis placed his shield up to block, but forgot about Jelo until he saw a morning star flying towards his face, and he knocked the weapon back with his own.

"Damned brutes," Jannis muttered. Kazehh and Jelo advanced, striking and slashing at Jannis, never giving him a second to breathe. Whenever Kazehh left himself open after a wide strike, Jelo was there to keep their opponent at bay, and vice versa. At last, Jannis somersaulted backwards and growled.

"Get out of my way," he threatened. Kazehh pointed his axe at him.

"No," he said.

Jannis roared and thrusted with his sword. The thrust flew through the space between Kazehh's brand-new axe head and the axe shaft with pinpoint accuracy. At once, Jannis swung upward, taking the axe head with it. Jelo finally reacted, trying to take him on with another swing of his morning star, but Jannis caught it with his shield. The impact was strong enough to embed the weapon in the shield's wood.

"I gave you a chance," Jannis said. Jelo, in lieu of a response, yanked the morning star back and with it, to Jannis's surprise, the shield as well. Kazehh took advantage of Jannis's shock to whack him in the face with the shaft of his weapon, knocking him in the groin and the knees as well. Jannis was about to swing back when Jelo struck him in the stomach. Despite Jannis's heavy armor, it was deep enough to draw blood, and he collapsed to his knees.

Austin had finally recovered from her blow and gotten her weapon. Jannis merely looked up at her with hate.

"You can kill me," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "But not the truth."

"You're a madman," she said. "You're a sick, deceitful, fanatic brute!"

"Maybe," Jannis said, and he spat out a glob of blood. "But I am not wrong." Before any of them could react, he turned to the men behind him and yelled. "Men! To me!" he cried, and a dozen Church knights turned to take them on.

Austin knew that a wounded commander and two sellswords could not hope to take on a dozen Church knights. There was only one option.

"Men!" she yelled. "Retreat! Fall back to capitol hill and regroup there!"

Her men were quick to oblige, eagerly turning tail and fleeing the scene. Even as Church knights began running at her, she remained still, staring at Jannis, who only stared back.

"Run," he growled in a pained voice. "Run back to Nitesco. Run back to him, so he can comfort you and fill your head with lies. Run back to him, and run from the truth!"

Austin wanted to retort, to yell back, to tell him he was wrong, but she could not find the words. So, she did as she was told, and she ran.

By the time she had returned to the castle, the soldiers there were preparing to leave. Gwydion, Vulpix, and Opifexa were nowhere to be found, and Nitesco was busy gathering the last of the citizens and soldiers he could before he retreated through the tunnel with the rest. As Austin limped into the throne room with her men, haggard and bloody, Nitesco stopped what he was doing and rushed to her side.

"Austin!" he cried. He sat her down on the steps to the throne and examined the damage. She pushed him away and tried to stand.

"It's fine," she said. She pointed out the doors, where the storm and the Church raged outside in equal measure. "Jannis is making his final charge up the hill. The defenses are regrouping. You don't have much time." She paused and looked around. "Where is everyone else?"

"I sent them through already," Nitesco said. "We've taken all the civilians we can. I waited here with some of my men for you. But we have to go, now!"

Austin gave him a weary smile and shook her head. "No. You have to go. Someone has to stay behind, to buy you time while you escape." She steadied herself on the throne and stood up. "I will stay with my men. You have to go."

"Austin," he stammered. "We've lost enough good men today. We lost Strike. We lost Coronam already. We can't lose you too." His words were full of sadness, but he knew she was right.

Kazehh walked up to them and placed a hand on Nitesco's shoulder. "You have to go, Nitesco," he said. "Who will lead them if you don't?"

"Your people need you more than I do," Austin said, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Go."

Nitesco nodded reluctantly, then looked to Kazehh. "Kazehh," he said. "If you or any other man wish to come with me, now is your only chance."

"With all due respect, my place is here." Kazehh looked down at the ground. "The Church took my home, and I know Jelo will never leave Austin to… to die alone. I have to stay."

"Kazehh…" Austin began.

"No." Kazehh sighed. "The Church has taken everything. I'd like to give it some scars before I go." He looked to Nitesco. "Is there anything you would have me do before you leave?"

He looked down at the ground and nodded. "Yes. I need you to block off the tunnel after I'm through. I've already put some gunpowder in there. Just light it up and run back."

"Okay," Kazehh said. "That sounds simple enough. Show me where."

Nitesco nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped himself. He put a hand on Austin's shoulder.

"Come back to us," he said. Austin nodded, but she remained silent. The Church would not make her a liar. Then, Nitesco and Kazehh were gone, and she was left alone in the throne room with what was left of her men.

She walked over to the entrance and looked out the gates. The Church was inching its way up the road toward the castle. So many men were bleeding and dying, just to hold them off for a few extra minutes. Jelo appeared in the doorway and lurched inside.

"Jelo," she said, "there's still time to go, if you want." She already knew his answer.

Jelo, true to form, waved her off and laughed forlornly. "I'm battered and limping," he said, gesturing at his wounds. "How far do you think I could get?"

Austin did not bother arguing with him, but silently offered her a seat next to him on the steps up to the throne. He accepted and eased himself down next to her while they both watched the door.

"Hey," he said softly. "Where's Kazehh?"

"Helping Nitesco destroy the tunnel," she replied. "He'll be back once he's finished."

"Good," Jelo said, and he chuckled a bit. "I never knew him as a man to run off, even when it suited him."

Austin smiled. "I know. Do you remember when he got his crescent axe? The first one?"

Jelo laughed weakly and nodded. "Yeah. They were going to put me up on the chopping block for thievery. He broke in and figured that I couldn't be beheaded if they had no axe. So, he ran up to the stand and grabbed it. Just like that. In broad daylight."

Austin grinned. "And then they chased him, didn't they?"

"Nope. When the guards saw, they told him to put down the axe or die immediately. Did the fool run, like he should've? No. He stood his ground and cut me free so I could stand with him!"

"And how did you get out of that?"

"Well," he admitted. "We didn't. The mob rushed the stands. We got away in the confusion."

Austin laughed, a rich, full-bellied laugh she didn't know she had. "I'm glad I wasn't there."

"Oh, you missed it," Jelo said, a smile on his face. "It was a day to remember."

The sounds of fighting had gotten closer, and they could both see the heads of soldiers through the doorway. The men they had in the throne room, which equaled about two dozen men, readied their weapons. Austin and Jelo stood and did the same.

"A day to remember," Austin echoed. Finally, the first Church soldiers spewed forth. The throne room erupted in violence. As the pair prepared to dive into the melee once more, a warrior emerged from the brawl and faced them both. His armor was bright silver, stained with mud, lakewater, and blood, and it was decorated with engravings of thorny vines.

"You're shiny," Jelo observed. He readied his weapon.

"You seem important," Austin said. "What's your name?"

"I am Draco," Draco said, almost bored. "And I am tired of introducing myself."

"I can fix that!" Jelo shouted. Screaming, he charged Draco, who deflected his blow. Austin did the same, attacking Draco with abandon, but none of her blows got through.

They danced that way for a little bit, Jelo and Austin attacking, Draco parrying, until suddenly he took the offensive. Austin lunged at him, hoping to take his legs, but apparently Draco had the same idea. He hooked his leg behind her knee, pulling her forward, and clobbered her in the head with the pommel of his scimitar. She fell to the ground, head pounding.

As she struggled to sit up, she saw Draco continuing to battle Jelo. Jelo was not taking well to the one-on-one. He was lagging, she noticed, every parry coming a split second later and later, his footwork becoming sloppy. Finally, Draco wound up and delivered a savage strike to Jelo's weapon, which passed through the morning star's shaft, Jelo's left arm, and finally through Jelo's left eye. He shrieked and fell to the ground. He struggled to get back up, only for Draco to deliver another heavy blow to the side of his head, and he sank to his knees.

"Jelo!" she shouted. But her cry fell on deaf ears. As Jelo cradled his shattered arm, Draco pressed the point of his scimitar to Jelo's chin, drawing blood.

"You know," she heard Draco say. "From the second I saw you, I wanted to kill you. I don't know why. But the sight of you just filled me with… frustration. But I am not without pity." He let his sword fall to his side. "Recant, and I will show you mercy."

The way Jelo looked up at him, Austin knew his answer was already decided. She wanted to cry out to him, to tell him to accept it, to just give in so he didn't have to die. But she knew she was too late.

Jelo spat on the ground at Draco's feet and stared up at him with nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. "Go fuck yourself," he said.

Draco sighed and shoved his sword through Jelo's lung.

Draco turned away and let Jelo collapse on his side, coughing blood and seizing violently. Austin looked at him, and in his eyes, she saw him weighing the sport of killing her. He looked straight at her, his eyes filled with disappointment, and he turned back to the battle at hand.

Austin, still dazed, crawled over to where Jelo lay. He was bleeding profusely and coughing up far too much blood, but he was alive. She sat up against a pillar and held his head in her hands.

"Well, damn," he said. "I never expected my last words to be 'go fuck yourself'."

"They won't be," Austin said. "Not for a long time."

Jelo laughed, a gurgly laugh that spewed blood over his leather armor. "You always… you always were a terrible liar," he said. He took her hand. "Tell them, will you?"

"Tell them what?" she choked.

"Tell them… tell them that it took a hundred men to kill me," he rasped. Austin, despite herself, laughed a choking laugh.

"Okay," she said. "I'll tell them."

"And tell them… and tell them that I slew each and every one, and that I did not fear until I faced the Church's champion himself."

"Okay, Jelo," she said, and a sad smile appeared on her lips. "I'll tell them."

"And say that I fought him to a standstill while the castle burned around us," he said, and he laughed again. His blood was growing darker and darker, and his pulse growing ever softer. She held him tighter, as if that would save him. "And that as it collapsed on top of us, I slew him, and we died together."

"Of course," she said, and she sobbed. "Of course."

"Oh, don't cry," he said, and he wiped the tears from her face with a bloody glove. "Just think of the songs they'll sing of me. Of Jelo, the Awesome!" He began coughing again, and deep, red blood dribbled down his lips. He closed his eyes. "And I'll… be a hero."

"Oh, Jelo," she said as his breathing slowed. "You already were."

Austin sat that way, with his head in her lap, until the fighting finally stopped. When she looked up, it was Jannis who stood over her, bearing the cut she gave him like a badge of honor. She looked at him, not with hatred or sadness, but with disappointment.

"He didn't have to die," Austin said.

"No," Jannis said. "He didn't."

She didn't want to fight anymore. She was tired of the killing. She was tired of the bloodshed, and the death, and the pointless suffering. She wanted it to end.

"This is the cost of war," Jannis cooed. "_Your_ war."

"Yes," Austin said. Jelo looked so restful. It shouldn't have been him.

Jannis did not deign to reply. Instead, he barked to his soldiers to bring in the captives. At once, several Church soldiers, their resplendent white armor stained with red, dragged in the soldiers they had managed to subdue. Some Arkosians, some Renorans, a few Villainians, but mostly Gunnians and Rosians. No more than two dozen men knelt before, with Church steel at their back.

In through a side door came Kazehh, wrangled by two Enablerish, fighting and thrashing and cursing. He saw Austin kneeling, and she could see a sudden burst of resolve in his eyes. Then, he looked down to see who rested in her lap. Kazehh went limp. He did not need the soldiers to tell him to kneel; he did it on his own.

"Look at them," Jannis said. His voice was cold and strong, but it was not harsh. Only disappointed. "Refugees and castaways. Products of this war. Nitesco fought for peace, for freedom, for prosperity. But he has denied all of these to his people." Jannis knelt next to her and sneered. "Does this fill you with righteousness? Does this make you want to kill me? Perhaps you may, but then you'd be a hypocrite."

"Spare them," Austin whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Spare them," Austin said, louder. "Spare them, spare the city. Kill no citizens, rape no women, take no treasure. Leave them be and I…" She paused. Did she really want to do this?

There was no other way. "Spare them, and I will join you."

"No," Kazehh said, but his weak cry was silenced by a soldier standing next to him. Jannis squinted at her.

"Why?" he asked.

"What do I fight for?" she echoed. "You asked me that. What do I fight for? I fight to keep this—" She raised Jelo's body. "—from happening. I fight to end the fighting. I want brothers and sisters to stop cutting each other down. I want homes to stop burning. I want people to stop sacrificing their lives for—for nothing!" Austin found her resolve and looked up at Jannis. "If your Church can end this war, then I will help you. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to watch good people suffer. I just want… I just want peace. So I'll help you make peace. If you'll have me."

As Austin spoke, Jannis's expression went from disdain to pity to satisfaction. He stood up. "Then it seems I've taught you something," he said quietly. He turned to his men. "Do as she says. Spare your captives. Touch nothing and nobody in the city. If you do, I will kill you myself. I must speak to the Scion." With a final glance at Austin, he gestured to his men that they were dismissed.

Austin felt empty. How many men had died today? How many good people had lost their lives in this pointless fight? Too many. She stroked Jelo's hair. Too many.

As the storm outside finally began to dissipate, she curled up and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

**May 30, 9 ATC**

**City of Guns N' Roses, Duchy of Gunnia, Kingdom of Guns and Roses**

Why?

That was the question Austin was faced with, constantly, for two days. Why? Why did she turn her back on Nitesco? Why did she join the Church? Why did she stay behind? She had a different answer for everyone who asked.

It was Jannis, the first time. She knelt at his feet and she answered plainly: she wanted an end to the fighting. That was what all war was about, wasn't it? To stop the bloodshed as quickly and cleanly as possible. At least, that's what good men fought for. There were few, if any, good men left to fight this war.

Next, it was Zissman. He took her aside and sat her down, and she was in awe of his beautiful white robes and his immaculate scarlet cape. His words, too, were beautiful: he soothed her and asked his questions with a soft voice and gentle words while Anti looked on. Austin admitted to him that she was concerned for the common good of the Subreddit, and she told him she believed the Church was the best road to the fulfillment of that common good. Zissman smiled and nodded and thanked her for her time and service, and he took Anti outside the room discussed. She could hear bits and pieces of their conversation through the walls (_...seems to be sincere… we'll see how it goes…) _and decided they were good things to hear.

But most of all, she heard from herself. When she was alone, not being bombarded by the questions of the higher-ups or the suspicious glances of the rank-and-file, she would ask herself different questions. Was what she was doing wise? Would it pay off in the end? Would she be remembered as a traitor? The questions swam in her head, and only sleep warded them off.

But she could not be distracted by questions, Austin told herself. Doubt was a cruel mistress, and she would do herself no good wondering on what might have been. Besides, Zissman had called a meeting for his officers, and according to a very curt messenger, he now counted Austin among that number.

Austin walked across the marble-paved roads of the capitol hill, which, unlike the rest of the city roads, had remained mostly free of blood or damage. A few Church soldiers milled about, minding their own business for once and paying no attention to her. A welcome respite, she thought.

"Austin!" Someone called. Austin huffed. So much for the respite.

She turned around and saw Faker and Anti walking toward her. Faker waved at her to stop while Anti walked silently beside him, her hands in her jacket pockets. Austin waited for them to catch up to her.

"Lord Faker. Lady Anti." Austin gave a proper bow. "I don't believe we've properly met."

"Then it's good we're finally meeting," Anti said. She gave Austin a smile. "You were well-spoken at the Diet, however long ago that was. I'm pleased to finally have the chance to meet you in person."

"I as well," Faker said. "You're a damn fine general. Perhaps you'd make a good politician as well, seeing as how you went from commoner to commander in a mere two weeks."

"Faker!" Anti scolded. She sighed. "Forgive him. Sometimes he forgets to bite his tongue around new people."

"Oh, it's no worry," Austin said politely. "I've known plenty of men like him. Though never for long."

Faker squinted at her, unsure of whether or not that was a jest or a threat, until he saw her smile. He returned it in kind, laughing boisterously at her gall.

"Ah, a sharp sword and a sharp tongue!" Faker snorted again. "And to think I thought you'd be some boring, uptight pedant. Perhaps I was wrong." He took a step back. "Unfortunately, I've got work to do, so I must cut our little meet-and-greet short. Anti, see her to the meeting room. I have some business to attend to with my generals before I can make it."

"It's been a pleasure," Austin said. Faker gave a dramatic bow before turning around and wandering off. Beside her, Anti scoffed.

"The fool's been lax on his acting lessons lately," she commented. Austin gave her a look.

"Is he always like that?" she asked. Anti sighed.

"It's just bluster," Anti said. "Once he figures out whether or not he likes you, he'll drop the act. He did the same thing to Jannis and me when we first met. Now, come." Anti resumed walking to the Manor, while Austin followed.

"Tell me about the others," Austin said. "Zissman, Jannis, Draco. What are they like?"

Anti shrugged. "Draco's the oddest of all of them," she said in a tense voice. "Totally devoted to Zissman's religion. When he's not training, he's praying, and he barely takes off that helmet of his, even when he sleeps. Gives me the creeps."

"I can't blame you," Austin said, bitter. "What about Jannis and Zissman? Where do they fit into things?"

"Jannis is the commander of the Church's armed forces," Anti said, her tone relaxing. "He's devout, but he's not as much of a zealot. Mostly, he keeps to himself. He's a capable strategist and an outstanding warrior, and he holds honor in high regard. But do be careful around him. He's innately suspicious of every non-Outlander, and it will be difficult to get him to trust you."

"You and Faker did it," Austin said, wearing an uneasy grin. "I'm sure I can get him to like me too."

"We'll see if you have the charm for it," Anti said, smiling. "You must have made a good impression, at least, to have reached this point." They entered the foyer of the Badaz Manor and began walking up a flight of stairs.

"And what of Zissman?" Austin asked. Anti pursed her lips.

"Zissman is the leader of the Church of Thorns and, by virtue of their promotion to state church, the new heir of the Subreddit. He's an excellent orator and I do think he truly believes in his faith. But he has taken to Subreddit intrigue with… enthusiasm."

"And what does that imply?" Austin asked.

Anti's lip twitched, but her expression remained blank. "Perhaps," she whispered, "his Goddess's rule is not the only one he seeks to uphold anymore. But not a whisper to anyone else of that."

Austin nodded, absorbing the information. Anti seemed confident in her assessments, but could she be trusted? She decided to save such questions for later and focus on getting the meeting over with.

Anti and Austin arrived in the war room on the second floor, the same one she had been in only a few days prior. Jannis and Zissman already sat at the table and had strewn Church banners across the room, but they had left most of it unchanged. Nitesco's maps remained where he had left them, and the ink Nitesco knocked over that night had dried on the table and the floor. Upon seeing the two of them, Zissman rose and smiled warmly.

"Anti." He turned to Austin and extended his hand. "And of course, the esteemed commander Austin. A pleasure to finally get the chance to work with you."

Austin uneasily shook Zissman's hand, not moved by his smile. "Likewise," she said. Zissman either didn't notice her discomfort, or else he didn't care. He let go of her hand and sat, beckoning for her to do the same.

"I see that you've already met Anti," Zissman observed. "And I believe that you've already met Jannis, correct?"

Austin looked over at Jannis, but he was lost in thought and gave only a grunt in reply. "Yes," she said, turning back to Zissman. "We had a… discussion during the battle. He helped me realize that there would never be peace if we continued resisting the law."

Jannis looked up at that and gave her a small nod. Zissman's smile grew even wider and he turned to Jannis. "Well," he said. "A most unexpected surprise. I didn't think you were much for conversion."

"I have my moments," Jannis said, but he remained impassive. A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Faker and Draco walked in.

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting," Faker said in a tone that suggested he didn't care. He took a seat next to Anti at the far end of the table. Draco sat down next to Jannis, scrutinizing Austin in a way that made her uncomfortable.

"It's no worry," Zissman said. "I was just getting acquainted with our newest recruit. Austin, have you met Faker and Draco?"

"I talked a bit with Faker earlier," Austin said, keeping her eyes on Draco the whole time. "And Draco…" she took care to control her voice, keeping calm. "I saw him during the battle too."

Draco squinted at her from beneath his helmet, but grunted and leaned back. "Enough introductions," he demanded. "Let's get down to business."

"Very well," Zissman said, and he began shuffling Nitesco's maps around. "Now, to defeat the Badaz League, we must kill their commanders. Without a base of operations, Nitesco is vulnerable. We must strike before they have a chance to regroup and retrench."

"And what do you suggest?" Faker asked.

"Nitesco, I believe, is looking to find a new base of operations farther north. He was gracious enough to leave his maps behind." Zissman passed the map on which Nitesco had marked new potential bases. While the others examined the maps, Austin merely shook her head. Nitesco had been very foolish to leave them behind.

"The two potential locations are in the realms of Duke McDouggal of Milk and Cereal and King Dat of Freezerburn," Zissman said. "If they successfully negotiate with them, then we will be back at square one, so intercepting them is of the essence. Austin!"

Austin snapped to attention and met Zissman's gaze. "Yes, Scion?"

"You know Nitesco better than anyone here," he said. "Where is he likely to go?"

Austin felt the room watching her and took a second to calm herself. She looked at the map, staring at the two red x's on it. Where would Nitesco go?

"Nitesco prefers to keep his options open," she said. "He doesn't like having only one way to go. It's more likely that he'll split his men and send half to each location. That way, he has a backup plan."

Zissman nodded and stroked his beard, assessing the situation. "He'd have to divide his forces," he said.

"True," Jannis said. "But we'll also have to divide our forces if we're to catch up with him. Plus, he has a head start, and our men are needed on other fronts as well."

Zissman scowled and leaned over the table. Austin could see him calculating his options, the risks, and the rewards.

"Jannis," he said. "Do we have many colonies in Freezerburn territory?"

"We do," Jannis said. "Few other places in Rubia have as many converts as that kingdom."

"We can leverage that." Zissman pointed at Anti. "Your nation borders Freezerburn, yes?" She nodded.

"I want you to go there with Jannis. Take a platoon of our best men. If you, ah, negotiate correctly, you shouldn't need much more."

"And if Nitesco arrives first?" Anti asked.

"He'll have to travel mostly through hostile territory. You won't. You should arrive ahead of him." Zissman turned to Austin.

"Austin, you've done business with King McDouggal, have you not?"

"I have, Scion," she said. He nodded.

"Then I want you to go with Faker to confront McDouggal. I understand he's staunchly neutral, but disobeying us would mean treason. If he won't bend…" Zissman's eyes narrowed at Austin, betraying a cruelty she hadn't seen in him before. "Break him."

Faker clapped. "It will be done." Austin shifted in her seat.

"And what about me?" Draco asked. "What will I do?"

"You will travel with me to Beis, where the Diet was held. Bumblebee is in the midst of a civil war because of our actions, and I wish to supervise our victory there personally. You will also bring our guest along, when he wakes."

"Guest?" Austin asked. "What guest?"

Zissman smiled at her. "Oh, my dear," he said. "You didn't hear? Colonel Strike is alive."

Austin gaped. Strike was alive? She had been certain he was killed at the docks. But if he was alive, there was no question that the Church would use him. She swallowed.

"Where is he, then?"

Jannis shook his head. "He's still comatose. We dragged him off the shore yesterday morning. He hasn't woken yet."

"But when he does," Zissman said, with an eager glint in his eye, "he will become a messenger of the Church, as we all have. But you have a more important task: stop Nitesco from finding his footing. Extend our blessings and our friendship to these rulers. But remember." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and he looked straight at Austin with fury in his eyes. "If they defy me, they defy the Church entire. You would do well to remind them of that."

"Yes, Scion," they said in unison.

"Jannis," Zissman said. "With me. I must talk with you. The rest of you may leave."

They did as they were told, giving a small bow before departing. As Austin made her way down the stairs, Faker caught up to her and walked beside her.

"So, what do you think of your first official Coalition meeting?" he asked. Faker studied her intently, the way Gwydion studied his machines. It made her uneasy.

"Nothing I haven't gone through before," she said. "Draco caught my attention, though. He seemed… familiar, somehow."

Faker's expression darkened, and he looked away. "Best not to ask," he said. Austin nodded and decided to change the subject.

"When do we depart for Milk and Cereal?" she asked.

Faker shrugged. "Maybe two or three days. I think we'll march north to Ladybug with Anti and Jannis and then ferry across the Canon River from there. We'll dock in Lancaster and march the rest of the way." He paused. "I understand you were close to McDouggal, once."

"I wouldn't say close," Austin said. No, not close at all, she thought. But he was still a good man. Worse, he was a stubborn man. The odds of him going quietly into the night were slim at best. "But I won't take any pleasure in killing him."

"What makes you think it'll come to that?" Faker asked. He was testing her, no doubt about it. She grumbled to herself.

"We wouldn't be bringing so many soldiers along if you thought it wouldn't," she said. Faker laughed, a quick snort out the nose, and smiled.

"True. You're smarter than I thought you'd be. Perhaps you'll be useful after all." He turned to leave.

"I'm… flattered?" Austin answered. Faker chuckled.

"Oh, don't blush," he jested. "We haven't even seen if I'm right yet. I hope I am. For all our sakes." His point made, he wandered off, and Austin was alone.

She turned to face the castle, which now had the banners of the Church of Thorns hanging from its walls. White standards emblazoned with the red outline of a rose decorated every entrance. Austin felt her face tense a little.

"Yes," she said. "For all our sakes."

"He is not yet conscious?"

Zissman prodded Strike's face again, but Strike remained unresponsive. Jannis stood in the doorway, watching as Zissman tried and failed to elicit a response from their comatose Colonel. The doctor, a city native they had forcibly conscripted, tapped his fingers together nervously.

"No, sir," the doctor said. He ran his hands through his receding hairline. "He hasn't moved at all since he was brought in yesterday. We've been feeding him water and honey, but he can't live that way forever. Eventually, he will waste away."

Zissman pursed his lips and patted Strike on the cheek. Once again, there was no response.

"I will give him a week," he declared. "No more. If he doesn't wake by then, smother him."

"I—" The doctor began to object, but a cold stare from Zissman was enough to silence him. "Yes, sir," the doctor finished.

"Good." Zissman smiled and patted the uneasy doctor on the back. "You should get back to your patient. Jannis, with me." Jannis watched the doctor fret over his patient as Zissman walked out. He shook his head and followed, closing the door on the way.

"I do hope he awakens," Zissman said as they walked through the Manor. "He could be very useful. When he learns that Zealander betrayed him and left him to die… yes. Very useful indeed."

Jannis could feel the satisfaction in Zissman's voice, and it made him frown. "Strike is comatose," he said. "I say we just slit his throat and add his body to the piles."

Zissman stopped and turned around, a wistful smile on his face. "Oh, but Jannis!" he said. "Think of what he could offer us! More information on enemy tactics and strength. Plus, having not one but two defecting commanders would cripple the League's morale."

"He's still an enemy," Jannis said, unmoved. "And much more stubborn than Austin. There's no use keeping him alive."

"You converted Austin," Zissman pointed out.

"Austin was wishy-washy," Jannis retorted. "Too idealistic for her own good. It was easy to get under her skin. This one's principled. And he's only a Colonel. I doubt he'll be much use to us."

"Jannis," Zissman said, his smile fading ever so slightly. "You know I of all people can change a man's mind. What is this really about?"

Jannis sighed and cast a backwards glance at Strike's room. "I disagree with manipulating a gravely injured man to do our bidding." His thoughts wandered to Draco, who was now ever at Zissman's side unless he was in battle. What the Scion saw in that creature, Jannis had no idea. "I find it distasteful."

"Distasteful?" Zissman said the word with a sour note. "Jannis, this is war. Bad things happen in war; you of all people should know that. What is the harm in converting one or two men?" That cunning grin of his appeared on Zissman's face again. "It's in service to the Goddess. We are doing her will; will she not forgive us for that?"

"No one man knows the Goddess's will," Jannis said.

Zissman bobbed his head side to side, as if considering Jannis's words. "True," he conceded. "No one man can fathom the whole truth. But I am her Scion, Jannis. If anyone is close to understanding, it is I."

Seeing Jannis remained unconvinced, Zissman sighed and placed his hand on Jannis's shoulder. "My friend, I understand your doubts. I had them too, at one point. But we must trust that we are doing her will, and she will reward us for bringing these heathen lands into her domain."

"Yes," Jannis said. He sighed. "I understand."

"Good," Zissman whispered. "Begin preparing your men for the mission to Freezerburn. Let me worry about Colonel Strike." With a final nod, Zissman disappeared into the corridors of the Manor.

Jannis clutched the pendant around his neck; an image of the Gold Maiden, Patroness of the Church Militant. Perhaps what Zissman was doing was the Goddess's will. But it didn't feel like it.

Jannis sighed and grunted. Such contemplation would have to wait; he had a mission to complete. He turned around and began walking away, to return to his camps and inform his officers of their new assignments. As he passed Strike's room, he gave one more backwards glance, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of disappointment. He gave it little more thought as he walked out the door.

* * *

**May 30, 9 ATC**

**A refugee camp in the Gun Mountains**

Nitesco sat in his tent, fiddling with the rag in his hand, thinking. His prosthetic leg had been creaking and shifting since they had arrived in the cold mountains, and he hoped that a quick cleaning would fix it. If not, he had sullied a perfectly good rag with soot for nothing.

It had been two days since they arrived in the mountains, and those two days had been a crisis. The refugee camp, which had been set up and maintained by a skeleton crew for several years, was now overrun with displaced civilians. There was more than enough food to sustain them until they could find a new home, but the stress of it all was wearing on his people as much as it was wearing on Nitesco. More than once he had been accosted by a large crowd of his people, jeering and threatening him, and he had decided that staying in his tent was better for his safety.

His army was in little better shape. Nitesco had not been able to get most of his forces away from the city, and so the forces under his direct command had been decimated. Not only had this crippled morale, but it crippled his army's confidence in him as a leader, especially after Austin had been left behind.

Nitesco set aside the rag and sighed, deciding to ignore the squeaking noise his leg made when he stepped on it too hard. As he leaned his head back to take a nap, he heard a knock on his tent.

"Come in," he grumbled. At once, Opifexa entered into the tent, followed by Gwydion and, with some difficulty, Vulpix. They each, without invitation, took a seat near him, and Nitesco sat up in his chair.

"The troops grow restless," Vulpix said. "And demoralized. Two consecutive defeats, along with most of their old friends dead. We cannot stay here forever."

"I am aware of that," Nitesco said, his voice grating with frustration. "And we have a plan, remember? Contact McDouggal and Dat and see if they can offer us shelter."

"If we have a plan, why aren't we executing it?" Gwydion asked, frustrated. "We've been sitting here for two days! How many days will the Church waste before it comes after us again? We can't just sit here. We must act!"

"It isn't just the Church, Nitesco," Opifexa said, oddly calm. "It's the civilians too. They cannot live here forever. We have to find them permanent settlements north of the mountains."

Nitesco sighed and leaned forward. They were right, of course. He couldn't sit here and brood on his losses. They needed a plan.

"Vulpix," he said. Vulpix shifted so he wasn't leaning on his crutches. "Take your men and the Renorans and return to Arkos. If our reports from Arkos are true, we need all the soldiers we can muster on that front. Fortify Fort Jaunerrha, just in case both of our options fall through."

"It will be done," Vulpix said. "But we will have to move quickly. The Church will move to seize the rivers as soon as possible."

"Then move quickly," Nitesco said, perhaps too harshly. Vulpix frowned. "Opifexa, I will grant you command of what remains of my soldiers. Guide the refugees as far north as you can. As soon as possible, though, have someone else finish the resettlement process and come join us in Arkos. We need all our commanders on deck."

Opifexa said nothing, but nodded. Nitesco turned to Gwydion.

"Gwydion, you will travel north with Opifexa. As soon as you can, break off and head to Enabler. Contramundi will provide you with troops. From there, make your way north to Freezerburn to parlay with King Dat."

"Yes, sir," Gwydion said.

"I myself will take my private guard and travel to Milk and Cereal to treat with McDouggal," Nitesco said. "I'll rendezvous as soon as I have news from him."

"You mean to travel all that way with only a few guards?" Opifexa asked. "Very bold. Too bold."

"Duke McDouggal is a suspicious man," Nitesco said. "He will not respond well to a full armed force. But to be safe, I will travel to Lancaster and make my way north by land."

"Very good," Vulpix said. He strained to stand up. "Is that all?"

"It is," Nitesco said. "I will have us leave tomorrow morning. You are dismissed."

The commanders stood up and began filing out, first Vulpix, and then Opifexa. As Gwydion was about to leave, Nitesco spoke.

"Wait, Gwydion." Gwydion turned around, and Nitesco sighed. "I'd like to talk for a second."

Gwydion waited until Vulpix and Opifexa were out of earshot, and he sat down. He met Nitesco's gaze with a sad, knowing look of his own. "It's about Austin, isn't it?"

Nitesco sighed. Gwydion may not have been talented on the battlefield, but he was perceptive. "Yes," Nitesco admitted.

"Well, she volunteered, correct?" Gwydion asked. "Someone needed to stay behind, to deal with the Church. Or at least to hold them off a bit longer. You understand this was necessary, right?"

"It's just…" Nitesco sighed and rubbed his temples. "I feel like I failed him, somehow."

"Him?" Gwydion asked. His face slowly morphed in understanding. "Ah, him."

"She was his only daughter," Nitesco said. "The only thing he left to us. It took nine years to find her, Gwydion. Nine years! And now I've lost her." His eyes turned moist and reddened. "I feel… guilt. Stronger than I've felt it in a long time."

Gwydion placed his hand on Nitesco's arm. "Nitesco, do you remember when we killed Celtic together?"

"Yeah," Nitesco said. "I do."

"Do you remember how I killed Celtic?" Gwydion asked. "Who held him down while I took the shot? Who else took the bullet that went through Celtic?"

Nitesco nodded and wiped his eyes, suddenly ashamed of his guilt. "I do."

"I know that guilt, Nitesco," Gwydion said. "Better than any man living. You think I don't regret it? That I don't wonder what I could've done differently?"

"You had no choice," Nitesco said softly. "If you hadn't taken the opportunity, Celtic would've killed Austin. Then he would've killed you, and then he would've killed me."

"I know," Gwydion said. "I understand that. But that doesn't make me regret it any less." He sighed. "We can't let guilt drag us down. Because if we aren't here to protect the Subreddit from the Church, who is?"

Nitesco sighed and steepled his fingers. For a man born a mercenary, Gwydion was a surprisingly good speaker. Perhaps he should have been the Prime Minister.

"You're right, of course," Nitesco said, and he laughed halfheartedly. "Go. Don't let me keep you from your new project. I have much to think about."

Gwydion nodded, casting a somber glance at Nitesco as he walked out of the tent. Nitesco remained in his chair for a little while longer, mulling over what Gwydion said. Finally, he walked over to his private chest and withdrew a book. The cover was dusty, but the binding was still a rich white.

_The Collected Accounts of Team ANGQ, by Austin Rufus, Nitesco Gaming, Gwydion Forto and Quixotic Quail. _Merely a compilation of his teammates' journals and several contemporary accounts, yet it had become a best-seller. Nitesco smiled wistfully as he opened it up, recalling his old memories, and began to read.


	6. Chapter 6

**June 7, 9 ATC**

**Outside the City of Pyrruby, Duchy of Milk and Cereal**

The fire crackled and snapped as Austin held the fish over it, hoping it wouldn't fall off the stick. Her forces had stopped to set up camp on the bank of a small stream as the sun began to set, and she had left the others to catch her food for the evening. Some of the soldiers had told her they had rations with them, but she'd insisted. She was glad she did; she'd caught three of the fattest trout she had ever seen.

As the fish browned a little bit more, Austin heard a rustling behind her. She turned around, expecting to see another raccoon come to peck at her fish, but it was only Faker.

"That's a fine fish you've caught there," he said. Faker pulled up a log and sat down on it, staring into the fire. "I must say, I'm a little jealous."

"My father always told me that the fish grow fatter in the streams than they do in the lakes or rivers," Austin said. "It doesn't sound like it'd be true, but you never know." She paused. "Would you like one?"

"Much obliged," Faker said. She handed him a plate with a fish on it and a roasting stick. He skewered his trout on the end and placed it in the fire. "We don't eat much fish in Enabler. Our lakes are few, and we have no rivers. Seafood is a delicacy." Eagerly, he stirred the fish around the fire, as if that would make it brown faster.

"Trust me," Austin said, "eat enough of it and you'll get sick of it quick. I grew up in Prosthetium, a river city. It reeked of fish." She took a bite out of her trout. It was well-browned and of good texture, but bland. Faker noticed her disappointment.

"How'd you like some salt on that?" he asked, producing a shaker from his pocket. Austin looked at him oddly.

"Did you have a salt shaker in your pocket the whole time?" she asked.

"I carry lots of stuff in my pockets," Faker said. "Do you want it or not?"

Austin shrugged, took the salt, and gave the fish a once-over with it before handing it back. She took a bite. "Much better," she said. She ate in silence as Faker continued roasting his trout.

"Tell me, Austin," Faker said, finally breaking the silence. "Are the rumors true?"

Austin took another bite out of her fish and looked at him. "What rumors?"

"That you're Austin Rufus reborn," Faker said, leaning in for dramatic effect. "Or that you're his daughter. Or his sister. Or that you were a woman all along, and you pretended to be a man to become a general."

"That last one's just weird," she commented, and she continued eating the trout. As Faker continued to stare expectantly at her, she sighed. "They are true though. Well, one of them. I am his daughter."

"I knew it!" Faker laughed triumphantly. "I've seen the paintings of him. There was too much of a resemblance to be coincidence. And the name was just the cherry on top."

"It's a common name, especially around the Confluence," she commented. She took a final bite of her fish and tossed the remains into the woods.

Faker was finally content with his fish and began chewing it. "So, how'd you end up here?" he asked, his mouth full of trout.

"My father was charged with treason," she said. "We fled. I was separated. I grew up in Prosthetium and became a mercenary. Got hired by McDouggal as a bodyguard, came to the Diet, met Nitesco, and the rest is history. Well, recent history."

"Did you know McDouggal well?" Faker asked. He munched unassumingly on his trout, but Austin could feel his gaze become colder. She stopped herself from shuddering.

"Not particularly well," she answered honestly. "But well enough to respect him, if not like him." Faker nodded, considering her answer, and she decided to change the subject.

"What about you?" she asked. "How did you get here?"

Faker laughed and set his roasting stick on his lap. "Oh, that's a long tale," he said. "But I'll do my best to make it short. My stepbrother was supposed to become the Triumvir. Spent his whole life being prepared by my mother and my stepfather for it. He grew into a capable, if arrogant young man. He probably would've made a good leader."

"What happened to him?" Austin asked.

Faker looked at her and grinned. "You might think murdered him, but no. I was only eleven when he died. The idea of being a prince went to his head, and he began consorting with all sorts of folk he shouldn't. Got syphilis from a prostitute in Sang-Divin. Died not long after. I became the heir, and when my father died, I took his lordship. The people weren't happy that my mother's family essentially took his family's title."

"Did you change their minds?" Austin asked. "An angry people makes a short reign."

"I'm the only leader they had," he said indignantly. "They should have been happy for that much. But it didn't matter. They came to accept things soon enough."

"And the Church?" Austin asked. "Why did you sign on with them? You're not a believer, I hope?" They shared a chuckle.

"No," Faker said, and he resumed eating his fish. "I signed on to keep a buffer between myself and Contramundi. He was always my main rival, and when he started making moves, I knew I needed an ally. And the Church answered."

They returned to silence. While Faker quietly ate the rest of his trout, Austin packaged up the remaining fish and put it away before sitting down next to the fire again. They sat there for a few minutes until they heard something rustling down the path.

"Who goes there?" Faker called out, unconcerned. A scout came into view, hands folded behind his back. He bowed.

"My lord. Commander Austin." He cleared his throat. "We've spotted the Gunnian column on a small thoroughfare not far from here."

"Are they headed toward the city?" Faker asked. He gnawed a final bit of meat off his fish and tossed the bones into the fire. The scout shook his head.

"Um, no sir," the scout said. "They seemed to be heading northwest. Toward the Prince's Pyre."

An expression of surprise appeared on Faker's face, and he turned to look at the scout. "The Prince's Pyre? Are you sure?"

"Positive, my lord," the scout said. "That's where the road they're traveling leads to. Perhaps the Duke has a residence near there?"

"He must," Faker muttered.

"What is the Prince's Pyre?" Austin asked. Faker glanced up at her and waved her off.

"You'll have to see it to understand," Faker said. He drummed his fingers on his leg and mumbled to himself. "How large was their caravan?"

"No more than a company of soldiers, my lord," the scout said.

Faker nodded. "Go and gather three companies' worth of men. Leave the rest here. We will move to intercept."

"Wait," Austin said. Faker cast a questioning look at her and gestured for his scout to leave. As the man left, he gestured for her to go on.

"If we attack Nitesco now, we'll never know if we can rely on McDouggal," she said. "He's a pragmatic man. If he has no choice but to kneel, then he will kneel. But if we let him parlay a bit with Nitesco, we can see whether or not he really does sympathize with the League, or if he is truly loyal."

Faker nodded slowly, considering her advice. "Yes," he said. "I see your meaning. Zissman must know if his allies are truly loyal." He stood up and set aside his roasting stick. "Very well. A test of loyalty it will be." He stood up to go gather his men, but stopped to look back at her.

"You'll make a fine commander yet," he said. Faker flashed her a final smile and disappeared into the camp. Austin couldn't tell what the smile meant, and she didn't care to. She stood up and followed him out.

* * *

It was well past sunset when Nitesco and his guards finally arrived at McDouggal's manor. Nitesco had never expected McDouggal to respond to the raven he sent him, asking him to negotiate using Milk and Cereal as a base of operations, let alone allowing Nitesco to travel to his private estate. The rivers and the roads to McDouggal's lands were rough and filled with bandits, but they had come out unscathed. Now came the hard part: negotiating with Junipera's most stubborn Duke.

As they marched up the hill, McDouggal's estate came into sight. It wasn't particularly glamorous or spacious, but it had high walls and an abundance of defenders for its small size. The manor sat on a cliff overlooking the Prince's Pyre, a vast stretch of lifeless, ashen land. The ground itself was still scorched black, even thirty years later, and the crumbling remains of Milk and Cereal's former capital stood empty in the night. Why McDouggal would take up a residence with such a dreary view, Nitesco didn't know.

As they approached the gates, a few of the guardsmen broke off to get a closer look and, seeing they were Gunnian, shouted to the other sentinels on the wall. Moments later, the gate was opened, and the soldiers marched through.

The estate courtyard was also plain, with only a few benches and some statues to decorate it. McDouggal walked out into the courtyard, flanked by half a dozen commandos, and stopped in front of Nitesco.

"Prime Minister," McDouggal said. The Duke wore nothing but his evening wear and a red cloak, which made Nitesco feel overdressed in his suit of armor. "I see you've brought quite an escort."

"The roads are dangerous," Nitesco said. "Especially with the Church prowling about."

"That they are," McDouggal said dryly. "But you did not come all this way to chatter with me about the roads. Come in, come in. I am many things, but I am not inhospitable."

Nitesco gave the signal for his guards to disperse while he followed McDouggal into the manor. Like the outside the foyer was not particularly large or well-decorated, save for a few tapestries and a checkered carpet, but it seemed to fit the man who lived in it. McDouggal signaled for his guards to stay back. He took Nitesco down a side hallway, down to the opposite edge of the manor, and into his office. As Nitesco took a seat at a small table, McDouggal shut the door behind him.

"Can I offer you something to eat?" McDouggal asked. He fetched a plate of appetizers and a glass of wine from a windowsill and set it in front of Nitesco. "I imagine you must be famished."

"I am, yes," Nitesco admitted. That was an understatement. The plate didn't have much on it, only a loaf of sweetbread, a hunk of cheese, a pear, and a small cut of beef, but it was better than army rations. He tore into the sweetbread like an animal, making McDouggal chuckle. "Unfortunately," Nitesco said, his mouth full, "I did not come here just to sample your food."

"No, I imagine not," McDouggal said. He stood and walked over to the window. It was massive, covering nearly an entire wall of the room, and it offered an unparalleled view of the Prince's Pyre. The Duke shook his head. "I cannot accept your offer."

Nitesco was mid-bite when he heard that. His appetite suddenly gone, he set down the pear he was working on and steepled his fingers. "So," he said, his irritation clear. "You brought me all this way just to tell me no?"

"It's not just that," McDouggal said. He glanced at Nitesco, and back at the window. "Tell me, do you know how the Prince's Pyre came to be?"

"The stories vary," Nitesco admitted. "But I have no doubt you'll tell me."

McDouggal ignored Nitesco's remark and continued. "Shortly before the start of the Third Shipping War, my country was engaged in a war with Renora. The Interteam League, which I am the leader of, was founded by my grandfather to counter Renoran imperialism. King Zentics had been moving to seize the lowlands to our north. In response, my father declared war, and he marched north, leaving my elder brother in charge."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Nitesco said. McDouggal shook his head.

"I have few fond memories of him," the Duke admitted. "He was arrogant and vain, as kings so often are. But he was also a fool. Worse, he was engaged to a Bumblebee princess. When Bumblebee declared on Black Sun, she convinced him to join them and march south on Arkos. Despite my attempts to convince him otherwise, he rallied what men hadn't gone north with my father and went south to fight the Arkosians."

"I'm guessing it didn't end well," Nitesco said. He resumed eating his pear.

"His death was no great loss," McDouggal said. "But it came at a most inopportune time. His forces came back a quarter of the size they were when they left, and he returned in a box. That alone was bad, but then I received word that my father had been routed and killed by Zentics. That meant I was the king, and I had taken the throne as two armies marched on our capital.

"Zentics arrived first. Ahead of his arrival, I evacuated the capital and most of our gold. I kept my father's personal fortune and offered it to Zentics, along with as many of the crops growing in the capital's fields as it pleased him to take. I was lucky he was in a forgiving mood that day. He accepted that as the terms of my surrender and left with almost all of our crops in tow."

"And the Arkosians?" Nitesco asked. "What about them?"

McDouggal pursed his lips. "I knew I could not defeat them, and I knew that there was no negotiating with them. That only gave me one choice. The Arkosian general was arrogant. He refused to bring supplies along, as he insisted his men could live off the land. So I showed him the error of his ways. I—" He paused, glancing over the Prince's Pyre. He sighed. "What crops Zentics didn't take I burned, along with the forests, the fields, and the city itself. I fled north with my men. When the Arkosians arrived, they had nothing to sustain themselves, so they retreated south. It was a wasteful victory." McDouggal, done with his tale, took a seat at the table.

"Why have you told me this?" Nitesco asked. "It's a fine story, but what point does it have?"

"The point," McDouggal said, chagrined, "is that I know what it's like to have my country ravaged by war. The destruction. The sacrifice. I am not willing to put that on my people again." His expression softened, and he sighed. "But I know you are a good man. I know that the Church is a greater threat than any we have ever seen. And I am willing to offer you my support, but only secretly. I cannot risk Zissman's ire."

"We need a base of operations," Nitesco protested. McDouggal scoffed.

"Then find one elsewhere," he said. "What I'm offering you is money. Weapons. Food. The necessities of war. A base means nothing if you haven't anything to support it with." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know it isn't the result you were hoping for, but it's the best you've got. I offer you my friendship, though secretly. Can we agree on that much?"

Before Nitesco could answer, an explosion rattled the compound. He bolted out of his chair as McDouggal stumbled backward in surprise, but they both quickly recovered. Before they could process what happened, a guardsman kicked open the door.

"The walls!" he shouted. "They've blown open the walls!"

"Who's they?" Nitesco asked, but the soldier was gone before he even finished his question. He looked to McDouggal, who was opening the cabinets. He pulled out a breastplate and began strapping it on.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Go. Take command. I'll be right behind you."

Nitesco didn't need to hear it twice. He ducked out of the room and sprinted out to the courtyard to rally the men.

* * *

Austin crept up the hill leading to the estate, her mind elsewhere. The thought of storming McDouggal's estate, even though it was only a hypothetical, was maddening. Two weeks ago, she might have died fighting Faker. Tonight, she might die alongside him.

As she continued walking, she looked over the depression that was known as the Prince's Pyre. Faker was right, at least, that she had to see it to truly understand. There was desolation as far as the eye could see; the ground was white with ash for miles around, and the city stood empty, illuminated only by the moonlight.

Faker was crouched behind a large tree, drumming his fingers against the bark. As she approached, he turned to face her.

"All quiet on the roads?" he asked. Austin nodded.

"Nobody's coming," she said. "Now what? Do we send a man in to see what's going on?"

Faker turned away from her for a second, gesturing to a few of his men. As a couple soldiers disappeared around the side of the estate, he turned back to her. "No," he said. "The Gunnians already went in."

"So?" Austin asked.

"So?" Faker echoed. "So McDouggal's negotiating with Nitesco! That means he's a traitor."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Austin said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "McDouggal is a cautious man. He wouldn't put all his eggs in one basket like that."

Faker continued to avoid her eyes. "The evidence suggests otherwise," he said. "I've already made a decision."

Austin narrowed her eyes at him, but the sound of an explosion interrupted her thought process. She gasped as a plume of smoke rose up from the far wall of the estate. Faker drew his sword.

"You didn't tell me about that!" Austin exclaimed. Faker shrugged.

"I didn't see the need. Come on, now. This is your duty too."

As Faker joined the soldiers streaming in through the breach, Austin grit her teeth. Not only had Faker gone behind her back, he was forcing her to the forefront of command, something she was decidedly not ready for yet. But she had no choice. She, too, drew her sword and joined the assault.

The courtyard, despite the number of soldiers fighting inside, was relatively easy for Austin and Faker to navigate. She crouched behind Faker as they sprinted through, ignoring the soldiers around them. As they ran, Austin looked over Faker's shoulder to see what it was they were running towards. The manor itself, she saw, was wide open, and Faker was beelining to it.

As they entered the foyer, Austin was startled by the appearance of McDouggal in plate armor. Despite his age, he was as agile and strong as a man of twenty, fighting off two of Faker's men with a spear and a chipped wooden shield. They watched as McDouggal knocked away the first soldier's blade and turned around to impale the second before knocking the first in the throat with his shield. The soldiers slumped to the ground on either side of the Duke, and he looked up to see who had come to challenge him next.

"Faker," he sneered. He wrenched his spear out of the soldier's corpse and turned around. "Nitesco," he called to a man on the stairs behind him, "it's time."

Nitesco, who had just finished slitting a soldier's throat on the landing, turned around to see who had come to face them. His eyes flickered to Faker, the discontent on his face clear, but then they drifted over to Austin. Nitesco gasped and took a step back.

"Austin," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. "How?"

"We took her in," Faker gloated. "Made her ours. She's not _your_ pet anymore, Nitesco."

McDouggal's eyes shot over to Austin, apparently noticing her for the first time. "Hm," he grunted. "When I heard Nitesco had made you a commander of the League, I thought that I was mistaken about you. But now it seems that I was right about you all along." He spat on the ground. "You were just an uppity peasant girl playing at grandeur. Did you get it? The power you craved?"

"You misunderstand," Austin said softly. "I never wanted power. Only peace."

"LIAR!" McDouggal yelled, and he lunged at Austin. Austin dove to the side and somersaulted to safety, while Faker rushed at Nitesco. As they crossed swords, McDouggal readied to skewer Austin again.

"You think I don't see through you?" McDouggal asked. "I've dealt with dozens of whelps like you. One more won't matter!"

Austin slashed at him, only to be knocked away by McDouggal's shield. The Duke swung at her, connecting the shaft of the spear with her head. Austin fell, but recovered just in time to dodge a stab.

"There is no need for this," Austin said. "Surrender now, and Zissman will forgive you!"

McDouggal scowled. "I did not rebuild my kingdom just to have it ground underfoot by some heretic Outlander!" He swiped at her with his shield, but Austin slammed her sword into it just in time to knock it away. The Duke screamed in pain, but kept on the offense.

Austin decided that she could not remain on the defensive any longer. McDouggal lunged at her again, but this time, Austin merely sidestepped it and grabbed the spear. She attempted to yank it from his hands, but only succeeded in lurching him forward. McDouggal knocked her in the chest with his shield as he fell, sending her into a small table and knocking the vase on it to the ground.

"Clever trick," McDouggal commented. Another lunge. Austin ducked just in time to save herself, but the point of the spear hewed her shoulder. "Bitch," he added.

Austin began her own attack, bringing several powerful blows down onto McDouggal as she advanced. The Duke held his own, backpedaling fast enough for most of the hits to miss, but the ones that landed put several large cracks in his shield. As Austin prepared her final flurry, McDouggal dodged right and swiped her across the stomach, forcing her to relent.

"There's no need for this," McDouggal parroted, his voice high and mocking. "Surrender now, and Nitesco will forgive you!"

"Stuff it, old man," Austin mumbled, her frustration getting the better of her. As McDouggal raised his shield, she opted to throw herself into him, shouldering him into the stair railing. McDouggal, again, raised his shield to protect himself, but Austin's downward swing was powerful enough to shatter it. In response, he swung at her face, forcing her to back up, and quickly clambered to his feet.

"This has gone on long enough," Austin said. McDouggal merely spat on the ground and glared at her.

"How true," he said, and already he was mid-lunge. Austin, knowing he had no shield to protect him, sidestepped again. As McDouggal stumbled forward, Austin brought her sword down on the spear's shaft, splitting it in two. The Duke fell on his face, and before he could get up again, Austin ran her sword through his thigh. He shrieked in pain, and for a second she felt a hint of guilt, but then remembered herself. She whirled around to see how Faker and Nitesco fared.

Nitesco had Faker up against the wall, pressing his sword into his opponent's, the edge of his blade grazing Faker's neck. Aware that something had happened in his peripheral vision, Nitesco glanced at Austin for a second, but quickly did a double take. When he saw her standing over McDouggal, his face slackened and his posture loosened.

"Austin…" he said, but before he could finish, Faker pushed him off and rebalanced. Nitesco warily crept backwards towards the door, his sword up, glancing accusatively at Austin and Faker. He finally stopped in the doorway, trying to form a strategy, when McDouggal turned over on his side.

"Nitesco!" he yelled. "Run!"

Faker moved to attack, but Nitesco kicked him in the stomach. Ignoring the chance to deal a finishing blow, he looked up at Austin. In his eyes, she saw confusion, anger, sadness, but most of all, betrayal.

"We'll meet again," he whispered.

"Yes," Austin said. With nothing left to say, Nitesco turned and ran out the front door, bellowing to his remaining men to retreat. Faker slowly rose to his feet, watching Nitesco and his soldiers disappear into the woods.

"After him," he wheezed. Faker coughed and stood, watching as his men gave chase to the fleeing Gunnians. Only a few Enablerish remained in the courtyard, which was littered with the bodies of Faker's soldiers and McDouggal's guardsmen. Austin surveyed the damage for a bit before McDouggal, who was struggling to stand, drew her attention.

"You got me, wench," McDouggal spat. He steadied himself on a pillar in order to stand. "Are you proud of yourself?"

"I am," Faker added, and he punched McDouggal in the stomach. McDouggal sank to his knees, and Faker looked down on him with vague disappointment.

"I'm not sure if I should be impressed with you," he said, "or disappointed in him. Either way, you did well, Austin. Finish him."

Austin blinked. She looked over at Faker, who was staring at her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows.

"Finish him?" she asked. "Why? He's beaten. We can take him prisoner. Zissman—"

"Zissman ordered us to remind these rulers of his power," Faker interrupted. "McDouggal willfully associated with the rebels. Not only that, he crossed blades with us. He is a traitor. And the punishment for treason," he said, leaning in uncomfortably close, "is death."

"I don't want your mercy," McDouggal said, his voice thick with disgust. "I would rather die than spend the rest of my life locked up like a caged bird. I ask only that I not suffer the indignity of beheading." To punctuate his statement, he lowered his head in defeat.

"See?" Faker said. "Even he agrees. Go on and be done with it." He turned around, offering only a contemptuous backwards glance at the Duke.

Austin sighed. "You're right," she said, drawing her blade. McDouggal looked up at her and, for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes. Nevertheless, he stood firm.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," she said, as if it made a difference. McDouggal merely glared at her, the hate in his eyes burning bright, and he shook his head.

"I'm not," he sputtered angrily. "I would have it no other way. I die as I lived: in defense of my homeland. My conscience is clear." His voice cracked, and tears welled in his furious eyes. "Is yours?"

Austin clenched her teeth and pressed her blade into his neck, ignoring her feelings of remorse. "Clear as day," she said, and she slit his throat.

As soon as she let go, he pressed his hands against the wound, desperately trying to clot it. He gurgled and fell on his side, staring in awe at the pool of blood forming below him. Weakly, McDouggal looked up at her and gave her one final glare of disgust. Then his eyes glazed, his face went slack, and he died.

Austin stood there, looking at the body, until Faker came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She looked him in the eye and, to her surprise, saw some sympathy.

"You did him a kindness," he said. "No good ruler would ever want to outlive his kingdom. And this man, for all his faults, was a good ruler." Faker looked down at McDouggal's corpse, and the sympathy in his eyes disappeared. "But it's over now," he said, turning around dismissively.

"Now what do we do?" Austin asked. Faker took a seat on the stairs and drummed his fingers on the railing.

"I'll keep the majority of the men here," he said. "With their leader dead, it's only a matter of time before the people find out and turn against us. We must strike first."

"Will you lead the campaign?" she asked. Faker shook his head.

"I'll leave that to my generals," he said. "Zissman wants us back in Bumblebee as soon as possible. We should set out tomorrow." Faker sheathed his sword and began heading upstairs. "But that's tomorrow, isn't it? Tonight, I need a warm bed to sleep in. Come on, I'm sure there'll be a second bedroom for you too."

Austin watched as Faker went upstairs, opting to stay in the battered foyer. Bodies littered the estate grounds, and there was blood on almost everything. Was this the peace she was fighting for?

She looked at McDouggal, whose paling face was still stuck in a grimace of hate. Austin turned away and began heading upstairs. Such questions, she decided, would be better asked tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

**June 10, 9 ATC**

**Village of Gelu, Province of Ardeo, Kingdom of Freezerburn**

The draft was insufferable. Even during the summer, Freezerburn was only temperate at best, and when the winds picked up, it was enough to chill the entire cabin, which had been graciously provided by a small colony of Church faithful. It wasn't quite as far north as Renora or White Rose, but it was still out of Anti's comfort zone. She shut the window of the cabin and returned to her chair.

"Keep the window open," Jannis ordered from the couch. He wore only a dark blue tunic and black pants. To Anti, he looked quite underdressed without his almost ever-present suit of crimson armor. It was difficult to get used to. "It gets stuffy when you close it."

"It gets drafty when you open it," Anti replied. From the little Jannis had told her of his homeland, it was a cold and unforgiving place. Neither he nor Zissman had ever quite acclimated to the heat. That much was clear, because the further north they went and the colder it got, the livelier and more natural Jannis became. Still, she'd rather have him sulking and stoic if it meant the window got to stay closed.

Jannis grumbled but remained stationary. "You Subredditors," he muttered. "I'll never understand your aversion to the cold."

"Well, if that's all you're bothered by, I suspect you and King Dat will get along just fine."

Jannis grumbled again and finally sat up. "Read the letter he sent again," he demanded. The letter had arrived by raven the day before, stamped with the traditional gold wax of Freezerburn's royal seal, and written in the oddly square print that all Freezerburners seemed to possess. Anti pried it from the envelope and cleared her throat.

"Noble Champion and esteemed Baroness," she began, her voice swelling to match the kingly tone of the letter. "I, King Dat of the Game-Guy dynasty, ruler of Freezerburn, agree to your request to parlay. I am a friend to all those with the best interests of the Subreddit in mind, and it would be unbecoming of me to deny you this. Of course, I remain officially neutral in this ongoing conflict, and I cannot show favoritism to the Church over my own lords and officers. My schedule remains heavily occupied with the duties of the state, and the earliest I could accompany you is June 15th. I encourage you to stay in the capital, as I would be more than happy to treat you to Freezerburner hospitality. The decision, of course, is yours. I look forward to meeting you and to negotiating the prospect of an alliance with the Church." Anti groaned and tossed the letter on the lampstand. "I really hope that was written by his secretary. If the man talks like he writes, this will be a long negotiation."

"Cannot show favoritism," Jannis muttered. "Prospect of an alliance. Such hesitation! I don't trust him."

"You can't trust any smart ruler," Anti said. "Sympathetic to the rebels, he may be, but a smart lord will go with his head, not his heart."

Jannis shook his head and stood up. "Subreddit politics," he muttered. His voice was thick with disdain. "It's a good thing Zissman has taken to that. I'll never have the stomach for it."

Anti leaned back in her chair and furrowed her brow. "Weren't you the one that suggested Zissman purge Inferno's lords?"

Jannis grunted and turned away. "Yes," he admitted. "But in the manner of our people. We would've arrested them, tried them in our courts and executed them, as is custom of our justice. I wouldn't have just offed them at a diplomatic meeting."

"But it was prudent," Anti said. "A trial means a show. A show means witnesses, and witnesses means the truth gets out. Better just to axe them and be done with it."

"Perhaps," Jannis said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "But as I said, I have no stomach for these things. It's better that Zissman handle it."

"Zissman," Anti repeated. The word came out with a sour note to it. She hoped Jannis didn't catch it. "He has taken to intrigue quite readily. Admirably, even, especially for an Outlander. Truth be told, I didn't think he would ever get this far without Inferno."

"Nor did I," Jannis said. "But he has always had a knack for surprising me." He paused, and his fingers twitched. "I would hate to be on the League's side. He is a dangerous opponent."

"Yes," Anti replied. Her eyes narrowed at Jannis. He was certainly getting at something, though she couldn't tell whether this was a ham-fisted attempt to gauge her loyalty or merely an expression of fear. She opted to wait and see what else Jannis had to say.

"A dangerous man attracts enemies," Jannis continued, "from without and within. He is not the only ambitious man in the Church." He turned to face her, his face eerily calm, but his eyes were alight with urgency. "What would you do, Anti," he asked her, "if he became a potential threat to you?"

Anti swallowed. At least he didn't beat around the bush. "Well, that would depend," she said. "If it was only a potential threat… I suppose I would wait and watch the problem. See what happens." She folded her hands in her lap, hoping an expression of nonaggression would pacify him. She decided to turn the tables on him. "What would you do, Jannis?"

Jannis smiled a humorless smile and looked down at the floor. "That, too, would depend," he said. "But I would do what is best for the Church."

"The Church?" Anti said. She presumed Jannis would pick up on the hidden meaning in her question.

"Indeed," Jannis replied, his unwavering stare meeting hers. "It is not like one of your Subreddit's states. A kingdom belongs to its king. The Church belongs to no one man, but to the Goddess. I am loyal to her before anyone else. And you are sworn to the Church too, not a man."

"I suppose," Anti said. She knit her fingers, thinking. "Jannis," she said at last. "Is there something I should be worried about?"

"Not yet, perhaps," Jannis replied, ever stoic. "Maybe not ever. But I'm sure you of all people know that a dagger held by an ally is just as sharp as a dagger held by an enemy." Suddenly his face changed, and an awkward smile appeared where a thin frown had been. "But enough with such dreary talk. It's almost dinner time. If you'd be so kind as to make some vegetable broth, I'll go chop some firewood."

Anti obliged, slicing up some carrots and beans for their supper. Jannis returned with the firewood and set up a fire, and he cooked the stew. After finishing, he poured a bowl for himself and went out on the cabin's porch to eat his meal, while Anti remained in her chair, contemplating what he had said. Possibilities ran through her mind: risks, rewards, consequences. And although the broth smelled divine, Anti found she had lost her appetite.

* * *

**June 15, 9 ATC**

**Outside the City of Cryos, Province of Ardeo, Kingdom of Freezerburn**

The orange banners of Contramundi's men fluttered wildly in the summer winds, one of the longer pennants almost catching Gwydion in the face before he turned his horse to avoid it. When Gwydion had first rendezvoused with Contramundi at Enabler, he'd thought the soldiers looked resplendent, each one's armor finely polished and decorated with the red rose of Enabler, complete with its trademark gold flame leaping off the rose's bud. He had been quite impressed. But then he spent time with them, pitching camp and making meals and talking with them, and he heard everything that they had to say. After seeing their disappointing lack of respect for anyone not Enablerish and hearing the uncouthness of what could only be conscripted men, Gwydion was no longer even remotely impressed.

As Gwydion kicked his horse into a trot to escape to the front of the column, he came up next to Contramundi, quite possibly the only Enablerish he still respected. Contramundi met Gwydion's gaze as he rode next to him, saw his disappointed expression and chuckled.

"One of them hit you in the face again," Contramundi observed. Gwydion grumbled.

"Almost," Gwydion said. Contramundi sighed and turned ahead.

"They're good soldiers," he said. "I've seen them fight. They're efficient, and loyal. But off the battlefield, their discipline tends to… disappear."

"Believe me, I know," Gwydion said. He retrieved a map from his knapsack, opening it. "We shouldn't be too far from Cryos now."

"True," Contramundi said, suddenly reserved. Gwydion cast him a suspicious look.

"Is that a problem?" Contramundi shook his head.

"Not particularly," Contramundi said. "But I know King Dat. He's a great diplomat, but he's somewhat… easygoing, for lack of a better word. Whenever there's a matter of importance, especially one like this, no one can tell when he'll get around to it. He prefers to take things at his own pace. But the letter he sent us suggests he's approaching this with much more urgency."

"How so?" Gwydion asked. "In the raven he sent us, he only asked what day we were arriving."

"Not just that," Contramundi said, and he produced the letter from his pocket. "He said, and I quote, 'Please reply with the date of your arrival, so I know what day we will parlay.'" He closed the letter and shoved it back in his coat pocket. "The same day! He's quite eager to get this done."

"That doesn't mean anything," Gwydion said. "Maybe he's considering it in the meantime. Maybe he's arranging something for us."

"Perhaps," Contramundi said, unconvinced. "But it seems out of character for him."

"It's a daunting request," Gwydion said. "Of course he would want to address it quickly."

"Daunting issues never bothered him before," Contramundi said. He remained in a sullen silence, and Gwydion continued to the front of the column.

It wasn't until an hour later that the column marched over a hill to see the city of Cryos finally come into sight. Contramundi took Gwydion and a dozen of his best guards and marched down the road to one of the gates. The others were ordered to remain on the hill, in case a quick escape was necessary.

Gwydion walked just behind Contramundi as they went down the road to the city gate and took stock of the guards. They stood at attention, each of them wearing the crest of Freezerburn on their capes: half a white sun on a gold background, half a gold snowflake on a white background. They eyed the party with the suspicious glare all northerners seemed to have, and stopped them as they reached the gate.

The captain of the guard came forth carrying a massive mace, more of a metal weight on the end of a stick than anything else, on his hip. He stopped about arm's length from Contramundi and Gwydion, looking him over.

"You are the Enablerish, I take it," he said, gesturing to the flaming rose brooch Contramundi wore. Contramundi bowed theatrically.

"That I am," Contramundi said. "Very observant." The captain grunted in response and pointed at Gwydion.

"That makes you the Gunnian," he said. Gwydion nodded. The captain gestured for the two to step forward. One of the soldiers, carrying a large case, stepped forward with them. He was stopped by another city guard.

"What's in the case?" the man asked. Gwydion nodded at the soldier to open it. He did so, presenting its contents to the captain and the guardsman. The captain took a quick glance at it and squinted.

"What is that?" he asked.

"A gift for your king," Gwydion replied. "I made it myself."

The captain shut the lid, and the soldier returned to the formation with the case in hand. "My men will take you into the city, but you must leave your escort here," the captain said.

"Leave them here?" Gwydion asked. "Why?"

"King's orders," the captain replied, as if that cleared it all up. "And you don't have a choice." He punctuated his statement by placing his hand on the handle of his mace. Contramundi raised a hand.

"No need for that, good sir," he said. He gestured for the soldiers to disperse. The one carrying the briefcase handed it to Gwydion before leaving with the rest, and the captain waited until they were well down the road to speak.

"Apologies for the inconvenience. We've had enough foreigners in the capital these days," the guard captain said. "It makes the people uneasy. Now, stand in a T for me, please. We need to pat you down."

"We'd hate to inconvenience them," Gwydion muttered under his breath, but he obeyed. Contramundi, despite himself, smirked. The guard captain did not hear them, and after they had been searched, albeit carelessly, for weapons, he ordered his men to open the gates.

As they were escorted through the city, Gwydion and Contramundi were met with accusatory glances from the people. Some whispered to their friends and pointed, while others crossed their arms and looked at them suspiciously.

Contramundi pursed his lips when a baker closed his shop window at the sight of them. "Prickly people," he whispered to Gwydion.

"They are northerners," Gwydion whispered back. "Let's hope the King is more hospitable." Contramundi nodded in agreement.

When they arrived at the palace, there was little fanfare. The portcullis closed behind them after they walked through, and the guards on the wall glanced at Contramundi, Gwydion, and the case, but they did not move from their posts. At last, they arrived in the grand hall of the castle, where King Dat sat at a long oak table, sipping a cup of beer.

"My friends, you have arrived!" He stood up from the table and walked over to them to shake their hands. "I have been quite eager to meet you. There is so much to discuss."

"Indeed there is," Dat said. He glanced down at Gwydion's case. "What's in there?" he asked the captain. The captain shrugged.

"I don't have a damn clue what it is," he said. "Looks like a piece of hardware, though."

"It's a surprise," Gwydion said. "But we shouldn't have this conversation here. Is there anywhere we can go to discuss in private?"

"Of course," Dat said. "Follow me."

They began following Dat through a side entrance of the feast room and up a set of stairs. "I hope the journey here wasn't too difficult," Dat said as they walked. "I know the highlands can be quite cold, even in the summer."

"It was nothing major," Contramundi said, and Gwydion noticed his voice was now as soft as silk. "But your people seem to be quite suspicious of us."

Dat tisked and shook his head. "You must forgive them. We have fallen upon hard times. A blight has afflicted our crops, and I fear a famine will be upon us soon."

"I am sorry to hear that," Gwydion added. "I have seen firsthand what famine can do to a nation."

"It's not just that," Dat said. "We've had blights before. But the war is making it so much harder to recover. The rivers are patrolled by warships, and hardly any trade ships can get through without being accosted, taxed or, Goddesses forbid, sunk. And our neighbors are in the same spot as us. Nobody has anything to trade anymore. We are on our own."

"The League can help with that," Contramundi said. "We have coin and food to spare, and we have enough smugglers in our employ to feed the city."

"I understand," Dat said, a hint of exasperation in his tone, "but you must understand that I am extremely reluctant to give up my neutrality. It is the only reason we have survived thus far in the war."

"If you do not pick a side now," Gwydion intoned, "the Church will pick one for you."

Dat sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know. My neutrality has carried Freezerburn this far, but no longer, I'm afraid. But if I must give it up, I will make it worth my while."

"We will," Contramundi said. "If you enter into an alliance with us, then you will not regret it."

They were outside now, on the walls, and Gwydion could see for miles around. The city of Cryos was built on a slope, and the castle at the summit. He could see the entire city, and off the edge of the walls, thin banks of snow formed, even in the summer.

"I'm sure that you will tell me all about how the League will cure me of my troubles," Dat said. "But I would not have invited you all this way just to hear you plead your case. I expect you to make me an offer, and a damn good one at that."

"An offer?" Gwydion asked. His hand coiled around the case's handle. "We can give you coin, food, technology, and protection. What more do you want?"

They rounded a corner into a small pavilion, which had only a large, round oak table in the center and a couple of well-pruned shrubberies around it. There were guards standing at attention at every corner, but they weren't who Gwydion noticed. He was more surprised to see Jannis and Anti sitting at that oak table, and by the look of it, they were as surprised as he.

"I'm sure you can offer me more than that," Dat said. "I know they will."

Jannis rocketed out of his chair and pointed an angry finger at Dat. "What are they doing here?" he asked, shifting his finger to point at Gwydion and Contramundi. Gwydion clutched his case and Contramundi awkwardly hovered his hands over his thighs. Dat, however, merely raised a hand to stop them.

"They're here to negotiate, same as you," Dat said.

"We were under the impression you would negotiate with only us," Anti said in a careful, level tone. Dat flashed her a fake smile.

"Oh, Anti." He tutted softly. "You of all people should know better. Competition drives business! And I am a businessman at heart."

"You double-crossed us!" Gwydion yelled. "And threw in with these madmen!"

"Madmen?" Jannis asked. He reached for his sword, but realized it was not in his sheath. "Better a madman than a common mongrel like you."

"Better a commoner than an Outlander!" Gwydion said. Contramundi grabbed his shoulder to prevent him from going after Jannis. Dat stepped in between them, his patience thinning.

"Enough," he demanded. "I did not bring you here to discuss politics. I brought you here to hear what both sides have to offer, and to enter into a partnership. I am willing to give you military access in exchange, but if you continue to act so uncivilly, then I will have all four of you arrested and feed my people off your ransoms. Am I clear?"

"As crystal," Contramundi replied. "Though I would have appreciated a little more… openness."

"Perhaps," Dat said dismissively. He sat down at the table, making sure his guards were watching all four of them, and gestured for them to follow suit. Gwydion and Contramundi sat down, followed reluctantly by Anti on the other side of the table. Jannis remained standing, staring coldly at Gwydion, until Anti tugged at his cloak and he sat as well. They remained silent for a time, until Gwydion finally spoke up.

"Now what?" he asked. Dat grinned.

"Now?" he asked, an eager expression on his face. "Make me an offer."

The discussion lasted for about an hour and a half, and the participants were deadlocked all the way through. Where Gwydion argued the ethics of the decision, Jannis countered with talk of civic duty. Contramundi promised immediate resources and aid from Enabler while Anti promised greater dividends. All the while, Dat kept his nose in the air, silently daring them to raise their offers higher and higher. He was a shrewd negotiator, Gwydion thought, but not a stellar person.

"They're an untrustworthy lot," Gwydion said, eyeing Jannis fiercely. "Once the Church has what it wants, they'll toss you aside. They did it to Inferno, and they will do it to you too."

"Slander and personal attacks do not change our offer," Jannis replied, his frustration evident. "We can give you more than they can, simple as that. Their bluster about morality does not change the fact that they are simply unable to fulfill their end of the bargain. We are winning the war; they have no resources to spare for you."

"Winning a few battles does not entail winning the war," Contramundi retorted. His expression, unlike Gwydion's or Jannis's, was completely placid. "King Dat, don't fall for their lies. The League is strong, stronger than the Church and its supporters. Within six months, we toppled Inferno and occupied her kingdom. It was only by surprise that they took their victories. In a year, we will have defeated these Outlanders, and you can put yourself on the winning side. After all, we have the better generals, better men and better technology."

"I'm glad you mentioned technology," Anti said. She reached into her jacket and produced, much to Gwydion's surprise and chagrin, the stolen hand cannon.

"Observe," she announced. "My engineers have been working on a way to recreate this technology from scratch. Technology which, up until recently, has been a fiercely guarded Gunnian secret. What they hoard, we will freely give. Provided you sign on with us, of course."

"Pathetic," Gwydion growled. "How dare you take that and pass it off like your own! You stole that from me!"

Dat cast a sideways glance at Anti. "Is this true?" he asked.

Anti shrugged. "Yes," she said, "but why does that matter? The only thing that demonstrates is that we have the power to do that, and you do not."

Gwydion slammed his fist on the table. "How dare—"

"Shut up, blacksmith," Anti sniped. "What do you have to offer that we don't? What do you have to offer, for that matter, that you can deliver? You've sworn up and down to give the good king here your foodstuffs, money and men, but can you actually provide? You've been backed up against a wall and knocked to your knees. You don't have the power to stand up on your own, let alone deliver on the promises you make to him."

Anti turned to Dat and softened her voice. "My liege, not long ago, our forces sacked and occupied the city of Guns N' Roses. We decimated their men and their base of operations. Why do you think they came to you? They would be nothing but a burden on you. Nothing they could pay you will make up for the damages they will inflict by being here.

"But you already have the friendship of the Church. One of our largest colonies is in your kingdom. They supply you and pay taxes and are loyal to their king, but they are also loyal to us. By swearing to us, you can unite them fully to your crown, and we will provide for you. You have proof of that. But," she said, pointing at Gwydion. "Can you say the same for them?"

Dat tisked softly and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at Gwydion, then to Jannis and Anti, and finally he lifted his head and stared at the table.

"You are right, of course," Dat said. He was disappointed that his negotiations would end on such a sour note, but he knew Gwydion couldn't argue with Anti's logic. "And what is the price of your friendship?"

"I'm glad you asked," Jannis said. He grinned a malicious grin at Gwydion and Contramundi. Gwydion unclipped the locks on his case. "I demand only the arrest of the fugitives and rebel leaders Gwydion Forto and Contramundi Adversus immediately."

"Dat," Contramundi said. His voice was soft, yet cold. His hands were at his thighs. "Don't do this."

"It is for the greater good," Dat said, his face expressionless. "But I'm sure you've heard that enough." He nodded at the guards, who began marching toward the League representatives.

"Before you do this," Gwydion said. "I have a question. Just one." Dat waved for his soldiers to stop, but kept a close eye on Gwydion. His hand was on his sword, but he wouldn't need it.

"Have you ever heard of a blunderbuss?"

Dat scoffed. "A wha—"

He didn't have time to finish. Gwydion ripped open his case and backpedaled out of the chair, lugging a massive machine along with him. It was the size of a grown man's arm and it looked like massive hand cannon, although the mouth of the barrel sloped outward ever so slightly. Gwydion flashed a cocky smile and pulled the trigger.

The explosion was loud enough to rattle the entire pavilion, and the round shot out the end with such force that the barrel itself was torn apart. It struck the table, shattering it completely and sending shrapnel and splinters in every direction. Dat took the brunt of the blow, barely having time to shield his face from the hail of debris, while Anti and Jannis threw themselves backwards to escape. The soldiers were momentarily distracted by the show, giving Contramundi enough time to produce weapons of his own.

"Gwydion!" he shouted. Contramundi yanked two long daggers out of his pants and threw one to him. Gwydion caught it out of mid-air and stabbed the nearest guard before they both bolted toward the exit.

"After them!" someone shouted. They were already in full sprint away from the scene, running along the castle walls.

"Damn fine shooting!" Contramundi exclaimed.

"What do we do now?" Gwydion asked. The castle walls only went so far, and already they could see soldiers swarming over the wall on the opposite side of the grounds. Behind them, they could hear the soldiers giving chase.

"Keep running!" Contramundi said. They reached a small watchtower and, with only a few seconds to spare, closed and barred the doors on both sides. As the soldiers ran up against one and started pounding, Contramundi lugged racks of spears and armors in front of it while Gwydion clambered up the ladder to the watchtower's top.

In the distance, he could see their troops buzzing with excitement, having seen the clamor and moved to intercept. Below, to his left, the guardsmen began massing outside the barricaded watchtower door. To his right, the rest of the guards had quickly rounded the walls and were now beelining toward the tower. At their head was Jannis, covered in blood and splinters.

"Damn fine mess you've got yourself in," he jeered. He brought his troops to a halt and had them stand just outside the tower door. As Contramundi climbed up to the top, Jannis crossed his arms and looked up at them triumphantly. For the first time that day, there was silence in Dat's castle.

"Now," Jannis said, "you have three options. Number one, surrender. We will treat you as high-ranking prisoners of war and we will not torture you if you cooperate. Number two, resist. We will capture you, probably kill you. If not, we give you to the interrogators and make you wish we did."

"I'm not liking any of those," Contramundi said. "What's option three?"

Jannis pointed off the edge of the wall. "Jump."

Gwydion peered off the edge. He sheathed his dagger and grabbed Contramundi by the collar.

"Sounds like a plan," he shouted, and with Contramundi in hand, he jumped.

"Wait!" Contramundi and Jannis exclaimed in unison, but they were already over the edge. As they plummeted off the wall toward a snowbank at the base of the tower, Gwydion grabbed Contramundi and rotated so they would both land on their side. A second later, they did, and Gwydion felt the snow cave in around him before he felt the rough kiss of the ground.

He sat up, dazed, covered in snow, and in severe pain. His left arm had taken the brunt of the blow, and Gwydion knew without looking that it was likely shattered. Next to him, Contramundi groaned in pain, clutching his right shoulder, and Gwydion could see that he was in a similar predicament.

"You're fucking mad!" Contramundi sputtered.

"I'm alive too," Gwydion added. "And so are you. We have to move."

Gwydion sat up as best he could, ignoring the splintering pain in his arm. Contramundi grit his teeth and stood up, trying to focus.

"How far to the troops?" he asked.

"Don't think about that," Gwydion said. He grimaced. "Just think about getting there."

Contramundi looked up at the walls above, and saw several dozen guards looking down and jeering at them. He stifled another cry of pain and looked to Gwydion.

"Now what?" he asked.

Gwydion puckered and looked at the tree line. It was several hundred yards, but nothing he hadn't managed before.

"Run," he said. Contramundi didn't have to be told twice. They pulled into a dead sprint across the fields, hoping that they would be faster than the Freezerburners.

Jannis walked back up the city walls, his face bleeding, decorated with a few new wounds. He had ordered the soldiers to send out a sortie to capture Gwydion, Contramundi, and their soldiers, but the League always valued speed over power. His men would never capture them, but he had to say he tried.

When he returned to the pavilion, Anti was sitting on the ground in a puddle of blood. Unlike Jannis and Dat, she had remained largely unharmed by the explosion, but was still in a daze. She looked up at Jannis as he came up to her.

"Did you get them?" she asked. Jannis shook his head.

"I don't think we will," he said. "Can you guess what those two buffoons did? They jumped off the fucking wall. And you know what?" He slammed his hand on the last intact chair, chipping off a piece of it. "They survived! That was a five-story drop, minimum. How the hell did they walk away from that, let alone run?" He kicked the chair over and sat down next to Anti.

"Well, at least we won," Anti said. "We got to Dat before they did."

Jannis growled. "Maybe. But I would've preferred them in our hands. How is Dat, by the way?"

Anti shrugged. "Don't know. Soldiers dragged him off. He was pretty bloody, but he was still breathing when they did." She sighed and let her head slump back against the wall. "Now what?"

"Now?" Jannis said. "Now we go back to Zissman and tell him the League tried to assassinate Dat. Hell, if he dies by the time we get back, we can say they succeeded."

"And admit he died on our watch?" Anti asked.

"Nobody has to know we were here," Jannis said. "Nobody should, either. If it looks like Dat sided with us of his own accord, then it undermines them a little bit more."

Anti smiled at that. "You're getting better at politics, Jannis," she remarked.

Jannis turned away from her, staring off at the gray sky and considering what she said. "Maybe," he said, his eyes far away. "Maybe."


	8. Chapter 8

**June 29, 9 ATC**

**City of Schwarzundgelb, Province of Apidaea, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Zissman sat in the cathedral, staring up at the statues of the Goddesses, wondering what the Bumblebeeans saw in them. Bumblebee had been their main contender in Rubia, and it had been difficult to establish a foothold in such a staunchly religious nation. But the Church's converts, especially in Schwarzundgelb, had delivered to them a foothold along the Sunken River. Now, it was up to Zissman to strengthen that foothold. He decided a speech would do nicely.

Zissman heard the scuffling of Draco's heavy boots on the floors of the cathedral, and he turned to face him. Draco had his helmet off—an unusual sight—and a grim look on his face. Zissman merely put on a smile and gestured to a spot next to him.

"Draco, my boy," he said in a fatherly voice, "You look perturbed."

"Just tired, my lord," Draco said, and he slouched down next to Zissman. "And if I may be frank, you don't look terribly energetic either."

Zissman sighed and stroked his chin. Draco had a point. The stresses of running an entire war had been steadily accumulating: he barely had time for eating or sleeping, and his beard and hair had grown uncomfortably long because he simply lacked the time to see a barber. But these were small prices to pay for victory. For his, and the Goddess's triumph. He returned his gaze to the twin statues of the Bumblebeean Goddesses.

"Why do you think the people worship these goddesses?" Zissman asked. Draco gave him a questioning look.

"How do you mean?"

"What about them makes them… believable?" Zissman stroked his chin. "I have traveled far and wide over this Subreddit. I will not claim to have seen all it has to offer, but their beliefs seem so strange. More than one god, one god in two persons, a god as a force, a will, instead of a being. It all seems so odd." He leaned forward, examining the statues, as if they would stand and answer his questions. "Do they practice miracles? Offer salvation? Answer prayers? They sit in the sky and do nothing, where our Goddess has walked among us. And yet their peoples reject us and our goodwill. I simply do not understand."

Draco turned to look at the two statues. Zissman sensed the question was churning in his brain too, but he expected no answer.

"Because it is all they know," Draco said at last. Zissman had not expected Draco to have the insight to offer an answer.

"Go on," Zissman said.

"They grew up with this," Draco continued. "They grew up under the eyes of these gods. To them, they are familiar. They are real. To be sure, we can offer salvation and security, but even though they may convert, our Goddess will never truly be theirs. They simply lack the perspective for it, though I suppose the same can be said of us."

"I suppose," Zissman muttered. Draco was showing an uncharacteristic level of insight. He was unsure whether to be impressed or concerned.

"Zissman," Draco said, after they had sat in silence for a bit. "Do you ever have doubts?"

"Doubts?" Zissman said. He knit his fingers. "Why would you have doubts?"

Draco looked down at the ground, a little sheepish. "Sometimes," he said, a trill of fear in his voice, "sometimes I have… visions. Visions of things I have never seen. And when I do, I feel…" He paused again, unsure. "I feel like a different man."

"Visions?" Zissman asked. It was said that only the most pious were blessed with visions from the Goddess. Of course, many madmen claimed the same. One could argue both applied to Draco.

"Indeed," Draco said. "But it's only ever one thing. A woman, with long black hair, and red robes. And she never says anything. But I feel like I owe her everything."

Zissman, despite himself, couldn't help a grin. He was having visions of the Red Maiden, there was no doubt about it. And if she was appearing to Draco, the most zealous of all his servants, then there was no doubt that they were doing her will.

"My child," Zissman said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have no need to fear. The Red Maiden herself has appeared to you, to affirm your conviction."

"The Red Maiden?" Draco gasped. He looked up at the ceiling of the cathedral, as if he would find her there. It amused Zissman. "Can it really be?"

"It must be," Zissman said. "Do not fear doubts, my boy. They are natural. And if nothing else, this is proof that our Goddess stands behind us."

"Yes," Draco said, and the conviction in his eyes returned. "You are right, of course. But it's not me you sailed here to convince."

Zissman cast an eye at the open doors of the cathedral. Already he could hear the clamoring of the crowd, who, if nothing else, were curious to hear what their new ruler had to say. If he played his cards right, he could make the pious Yurists of Schwarzundgelb into another colony of believers.

"Thank you for reminding me," Zissman said, somewhat disappointed he had to go and deliver yet another speech. "I should probably make my appearance. Come," he said, standing. "It's no good to keep them waiting"

"I suppose you're right, my lady," Draco said absentmindedly.

Zissman slowed his pace and cast a backwards look at Draco. "Pardon?"

Draco looked innocently up at him. "I said I suppose you're right, my lord."

Zissman smiled darkly at him and shook his head. "Forgive me," he said. "I thought you said something else." He turned around and continued out the cathedral doors to deliver his speech.

* * *

**June 30, 9 ATC**

**City of Schwarzundgelb, Province of Apidaea, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Austin knew that there would be no welcome reception upon her arrival. Not that she minded, of course. She knew that she would never love pomp and procedure as much as people like Faker did. But even so, she was expecting more upon her arrival in Schwarzundgelb.

The city was dark and almost completely deserted; an odd thing for such a populous city. It was only eight-thirty in the evening, yet the streets had already cleared themselves for Austin and Faker. As they paced up the road leading to the former mayoral manor, Faker shook his head.

"It's very quiet," he said, stating the obvious. Austin nodded along.

"Indeed," she said. Austin glanced down a side alley and saw a man quickly lock up his shop before hurrying away. "I dare say it's quieter now than on the countryside."

"True," Faker said. "Truth be told, I didn't expect it to be this way. The people of Bumblebee are always so… firey. I thought there'd be much more rioting."

"Does this usually happen?" Austin asked.

Faker glanced to the side, thinking. "Well," he said. "Whenever the Church takes over a hostile city, one of two things happen. Most of the time, like right now, the people get all scared and afraid that we're going to go around murdering people, so they start acting weird and they stop going out at night. Then, after a week or two, when they realize we won't actually harm them any, they go back to normal. Circle of life." He drew a circle in the air to illustrate his point.

Austin raised an eyebrow. "And what's the other option?"

"They start rioting," Faker said. He shuddered. "Things get messy after that. Jannis is always a little, shall we say, heavy handed when it comes to meting out punishment." He realized himself and paused. "That doesn't happen often," he hastily added.

"I'll take your word for it," Austin said. They arrived at the gates of the mayoral manor and, after dismounting, were escorted inside by a few disgruntled city guards. The guards took them through the beautifully decorated yet poorly lit hallways of the manor and finally emerged in the dining room. Jannis and Zissman sat at a small round dining table while Anti stood and played the violin. As they entered, Zissman pressed his finger to his lips and pointed at Anti, who seemed not to notice their entry.

"Anti plays the violin?" Austin asked. Faker chuckled.

"I know, right?" he said. "I always thought her hobby would be something boring, like chess or reading. Never would've pegged her as a violinist."

"I also play the flute," Anti piped up. "But I'm a little rusty."

"Real one-woman band, aren't you?" Faker jested as he sat down. Anti rolled her eyes and finished her rehearsal, giving a small bow as she placed the violin back in its case. Zissman, Austin, and Jannis broke into a round of polite applause. Anti smiled bashfully and sat down at the table with them.

"Magnificent," Zissman said. "I'm quite pleased. Anti, if I ever find someone better with finances than you, you can join the court ensemble instead."

The whole party laughed. "Well," Anti said, "I suppose I could live with your offer, but only if you made Faker the court jester."

Faker made an expression of mock disgust. "I should be flattered. I am an actor, not a writer. If I could find someone to write my jests, I suppose I could live with it."

"Then look no further," Austin announced. "My father was a playwright and an author later in life. If anyone can make you seem charming, it's me."

"Oh, I don't think anyone's that good," Jannis said. More laughter. Zissman beckoned for a servant to bring another helping of roast beef to the table.

"As much as I enjoy this," Zissman said, "I'm afraid we have more pressing matters. Gwydion and Contramundi failed to sway King Dat to their side, and my agents in Junipera report that McDouggal has been assassinated. His country is ripe for the picking.

"More importantly, my agents report that the leaders have retreated to Arkos, at Fort Jaunerrha. I've already ordered a good portion of the men to begin preparations. The day after tomorrow, the fleet will sail. We will catch them at Fort Jaunerrha and we will squash this rebellion once and for all!"

Austin felt a bit lightheaded. The war was so close to being over. The Church was inches from victory. She thought the war would've lasted much longer, given how thinly stretched the Church had become. Still, if they bungled this attack, it very well could.

"And where does that leave us?" Faker said. He was clearly irritated. Austin had never known him to be eager to wage war, and he'd be especially resistant after returning from a campaign. Zissman seemed to sense this too, and he put on a light smile to ease him.

"Faker," Zissman said in that honeyed voice of his. "You know I wouldn't entrust this task to just anyone. Most of the soldiers on those vessels are Enablerish, and it is only fitting that their lord sail with them."

Faker took a bite of a carrot, unsatisfied. "Will Anti or Austin accompany me?"

Jannis grunted. "Anti will travel with me and Zissman to Fort Bombus, outside the capital," he said. "While we war against the Bumblebee rebels, you and Austin will destroy the League. Without leaders, they will fall apart."

Upon hearing Austin's name, Faker relaxed a bit. She was glad to know Faker thought highly of her. Or at least, that he felt secure around her.

"Do you have schematics of Fort Jaunerrha?" Austin asked. "It would behoove us to know where to strike our enemies the hardest."

"Fear not," Zissman said, a wry grin on his face. "I have something even better. Though you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see it." He stood from the table and gave a polite bow. "I bid you all a good evening. Jannis, with me. I have things I must discuss with you."

As Zissman left, Jannis grumbled to himself, but gave the table a nod and followed. Anti waited until they were out of earshot before she spoke.

"He's so serious," she mumbled. She took a sip of her wine and began pouring glasses for Faker and Austin. "Never a moment's rest. And so secretive!"

"I don't believe he means it personally," Austin said. She beckoned for Anti to stop filling her glass and took a sip of her wine. It was too bitter for her taste. "But he will always be an outsider. Perhaps he just feels… more comfortable around people he knows better."

Faker shrugged and took a large bite out of another carrot. "Anti and I are his lieutenants," he said. "What could he have to share that doesn't involve us?"

"Well," Austin said. "He is masterminding a plan years in the making. It makes sense he'd be paranoid the closer he got to success."

"He's always paranoid," Anti said. She drummed her fingers on the table. "But staunch in his beliefs, at least. As are we all."

Faker rolled his eyes at that and threw back about half his glass of wine. "Oh, don't get started on another sermon about what's right and just," he groaned. "I've heard enough of those from Zissman and Nitesco both." At the word 'Nitesco' he dragged his hand across the tablecloth. Anti squinted at him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No." Faker crossed his arms and pouted. Austin couldn't help but smirk.

"He got his ass handed to him by Nitesco again, didn't he?" Anti said. Faker grunted in a mix of anger and affirmation. Austin and Anti exchanged grins.

"Third time's the charm, buddy," Austin said. Faker sighed and drank the rest of his wine before placing the glass upside-down on a tablecloth.

"As entertaining as this has been," he said, clearly annoyed, "I think I'm going to head off to bed. Tomorrow is going to give me a headache, and I may as well be well-rested for it."

"Don't let the Nitescos bite!" Anti called to him as he skulked out of the room. Faker made a rude gesture back at her before heading up the stairs to the guest rooms. Anti just laughed and took another sip.

"What a sourpuss," Anti said. She smiled, and Austin couldn't help but grin with her.

"Well," Austin said, "Nitesco has taken him down twice now. If he loses a third time, I fear he'll do something drastic."

"Oh, he'll just skulk and be bitter until one of them dies," Anti said. She sipped her wine. "But at least then we'll have some peace and quiet."

Austin laughed. "Would that be worth the cost?"

"Depends on who you ask," Anti replied, bitterness in her voice. Austin cleared her throat, and they fell into silence.

"So," Austin said, "I must admit, I'm curious as to why you joined forces with the Church."

Anti leaned forward and sat up uncomfortably straight. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know," Austin said, "but I must admit, you seem more… principled than the others."

Anti smirked, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. "Principled?" She chuckled. "You're the first person I've ever met who would call me that."

"I'm serious," Austin said. "You were the only one who didn't look down at me when I talked to them about why I joined. Faker rolled his eyes. Jannis and Zissman thought I was lying. But you were the only one, I think, who actually agreed."

Anti smiled slightly. "Excellent observations," she said. "If Zissman ever puts me in the court ensemble, you can have my job." They both laughed softly.

"Still want to know?" Anti asked.

Austin nodded. "It can't be worse than what Faker said."

"I don't doubt that," Anti commented. "But I digress. When Celtic first began his revolt, he campaigned through Rubia, starting here in Bumblebee. Once he was done here, he headed to Ladybug, my home, and he gave the council of merchant barons a choice: join or die. Most, thinking that he would be stamped out within a year, chose to resist. My father did not."

"He sold Ladybug out to Celtic," Austin said. Anti wrinkled her forehead.

"Celtic would've razed Ladybug eventually," she said. "My father sought to gain from it. He opened the gates to the city and killed the rest of the merchant barons. The Logic family was installed as the sole rulers of Ladybug. As my father's only child, I was exposed to his methods and opinions in rulership early. Everything was going fine, until ANGQ killed Celtic."

"And that was the end of the Logic family?" Austin asked. Anti again wrinkled her brow.

"Not quite," she said. "My aunt, also a Logic by birth, chose to resist. She escaped the city and lived under an assumed name until my father was ousted, and then she crawled out of the woodwork to take over again. She reinstated the council of merchant barons, had my father executed, and put me in prison."

"In prison?" Austin asked. Anti nodded.

"My aunt was under a lot of pressure to rid Ladybug of everything my father created, including me. If she hadn't seen my potential, I'm sure I would've been sent to the gallows with my father. But instead she threw me in a cell for four years and then pulled me out once everyone forgot about me. And when I emerged, I found that because of my father, my family was despised and feared. It was… a shock."

Austin folded her hands in her lap. "What happened after that?"

Anti sniffled and took a big gulp of wine. "About a year after I returned to public life with my aunt, I was approached by Zissman. He said that I had potential, and that he could help me restore my family to what it once was. All I had to do was led him my skills and stick around for the ride." She sighed and wiped her eyes. "And, you know, I can't complain. He did what he said he would."

"And your aunt?" Austin asked, her voice quiet.

Anti sighed. "She had no children. And I'm the baroness now, aren't I?"

Austin nodded. "I'm sorry," she said.

Anti shook her head and smiled humorlessly. "Don't be. It was part of the bargain. And I always get what I bargain for."

Silence fell over the room, and Anti stared over Austin's shoulder as Austin waited for her to respond. After a while, Anti sighed and reached into her coat.

"On a lighter note," she said, "I have a gift for you." She removed a hand cannon from her inside pocket and placed on the table. Austin eagerly snatched it up and examined it.

"A hand cannon!" Austin exclaimed. "Where did you get this?"

"I took it from Gwydion," Anti said, with some pride, "during the battle at Inferno's castle."

Austin looked up at her and cocked her head. "Why give it to me?"

Anti shrugged. "Because I don't like it or know how to use it. Because you're principled. You deserve it."

Austin looked up at her with a sly grin. "If I didn't know better," she said, "I'd say you were trying to impress me."

Anti faked a gasp and lifted a hand to her chest. "Such grievous slander!" she exclaimed.

"Only you know for sure," Austin replied. They both laughed heartily, and Anti stood from her chair.

"Well," she said, "that's enough for one night. I'm heading to bed. Are you staying up?"

"I think I will," Austin said. "I'll go and explore the city a bit. If I'm leaving in two days for battle, I might as well experience what it has to offer."

Anti chuckled. "Have fun. Good night," she said, and she left the dining room. Austin examined the hand cannon, lamenting how it had grown crusty and scratched without Gwydion's religious care. She frowned and placed it in her inside pocket before turning her attention to Zissman's task.

Did she have the strength to finish the job? Or would she die without the chance to see the fruits of her labors?

"I'll think about that tomorrow," Austin told herself. She threw back the rest of her wine and left for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**August 3, 9 ATC**

_**Golden Glory, **_**Outside Fort Jaunerrha, the Confluence**

Austin looked through the spyglass out over the Confluence, hoping she could catch a glimpse of Fort Jaunerrha. Faker had anchored the riverships a good way away from the fort, to ensure they would not accidentally be seen, but a thick fog had set in that made seeing anything impossible. Austin thought she could see the spires of the Fort's watchtowers in the distance, but she couldn't be sure.

She heard footsteps behind her. "Any luck?"

Austin turned around. Faker, despite his heavy, clinking armor, moved almost silently across his ship. The _Golden Glory_, as he named it, was built more for defense than it had been for speed, and it had taken them a day to arrive at the Confluence. Still, if it meant she was less likely to drown on her way to the Fort, she had no objections.

"This damned fog," she muttered. She handed the spyglass back to the spotter she borrowed it from and leaned against the side of the ship. "Can't see a damn thing through it."

"Neither can they," Faker pointed out. "We still have the element of surprise. Not to mention more ships and soldiers than I know what to do with." He looked out over the anchored fleet, which mostly consisted of Ladybug vessels, and scoffed. "It only slowed us down. We could've been done with this by now."

"You're eager to confront Nitesco," Austin said. Faker grumbled, and Austin couldn't help a grin.

"First off," he scolded, "don't fucking psychoanalyze me." Austin put her arms up in mock surrender, and Faker frowned. "It's unbecoming of you."

"Are you really going to lecture me on what's unbecoming?" she asked. Faker opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it.

"Fair enough," he said. "But Nitesco's beaten me twice thus far. In my culture, there is no dishonor in a single defeat. Could've been luck. Could've been a fluke. Doesn't matter. If a man beats you twice, then it becomes a personal matter. You are obliged to avenge your defeat on him."

"But you didn't do that," Austin said. She could tell she was getting under Faker's skin, but he was going to monologue about it anyways. She might as well get something out of it.

"Nitesco will die here," Faker said, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "He must. And I will be the one to kill him."

"Then why don't we go?" Austin said. "We've been at anchor for a half hour. What's stopping us from attacking now?"

"Zissman's having us wait," Faker said, clearly displeased. "Believe me, I sympathize. But apparently we need a third commander to pull this off."

"What's so special about this one?" Austin asked. Faker shrugged.

"Don't know," he said, and he began tapping his hip impatiently. "But we aren't going anywhere until he's here."

Fifteen minutes later, the lookout saw their contact's ship on the horizon. The ship's flag, so high and bright Austin could see it through the fog, came into view. On a brilliant blue background was a white eagle, with a sword in its talons. Austin knew instantly who it belonged to.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said.

Faker gave her a funny look. "You know something I don't?"

"You'll see," Austin replied, with a hint of chagrin. She wasn't happy about this, and Faker, she guessed, wouldn't be either.

The ship, even larger and more formidable than the _Golden Glory,_ lurched up uncomfortably close to them and weighed anchor. On the deck were men in crimson uniforms, bustling about with ammunition, caring little for the other ships around them. Faker furrowed his brow, puzzled.

"Arkosians?" he wondered aloud. "I'm surprised. Only a few we captured defected, but so did…" He trailed off, and took on a concerned expression. "Colonel Strike?"

"It's General Strike to you, now," a voice called out from the deck. General Strike kicked a gangplank across the gap between the ships and marched across. Faker deflated a little bit, and Austin noted that she had known exactly how he'd react.

"So it is," Faker said. Strike looked from Faker to Austin, and his expression lightened a little.

"Austin," he said. She gave a curtsy, and he lifted an eyebrow. "I'll admit, when Zissman told me you had come over too, I didn't believe him. I thought it was an invention, to snare me or demoralize me. But it appears that everything he told me is true."

"Everything?" Austin asked. "Don't tell me you've started attending his services."

Strike chuckled. "No, not that far. But I've heard enough from him. I know Zealander sacrificed me during the fight at Guns N' Roses. I know he and Nitesco abandoned the city when the going got tough. And I know, firsthand, how much conniving and scheming he and Coronam have put into domineering the Subreddit. He is a danger to the Subreddit, and a danger to Arkos. He must be removed."

"And replaced by you, I suppose?" Faker asked. Strike shrugged.

"Can you think of any other?" he responded. "Nobody knows Arkos like I do. And everything I do, I do for her."

"That begs the question, Strike," Austin said. "Are you willing to do what needs to be done? We will be attacking an Arkosian fortress. You will likely be fighting your own men. Are you up for the task?"

"Zissman wouldn't have sent me if I wasn't," Strike said, indignant. "And besides, I know that place better than either of you. I am here now. Let us plan."

Faker grunted and led the two of them into the boat's cabin, where a map of the area was set out on a table. The fort sat on the southern corner of a short, arrow-shaped peninsula that jutted out into the Confluence and made attack from the north impossible. Strike grunted as he looked at the map, strategizing.

"Fort Jaunerrha is built on a cliff overlooking the lake," Strike said. "There are no beaches there for us to land on. The closest we can get is about a half-mile down the peninsula, where the bluffs meet the sandbar, if we intend to storm the fort."

"Our goal is to eliminate the remaining commanders," Faker said. "Storming the fort is a must. And what of ships? Do they have any? Did we muster up this fleet for show?"

"Their docks are situated down the main coastline," Austin said, pointing to a small dot just beneath the fort. "Their ships will be patrolling around it, or else in port. We'll match our battleships with theirs and sent our transports toward the peninsula. Whatever ships are left over, we'll have shell the fort."

"Is there any way for them to retreat?" Faker said. "We cannot afford to let Nitesco escape. _I _can't," he added.

"It is possible," Strike said. He pointed to a small dot just above the fort, on the other side of the peninsula. "This is the town of Sarissa. And over here," he said, pointing to a dot further inland, "is the town of Septesors. Both have large garrisons. Both have ravens going to and from the Fort and each other. If the fort is attacked, then we may have to deal with reinforcements from the towns."

"Do they have more men than we do?" Faker asked. Strike's expression soured.

"There's more to strategy than troop estimates," he said. "But no, I don't believe so. We've amassed a suitable host. We should be evenly matched."

"Then give them no heed," Faker said. "Here's what I think: like Austin suggested, we engage their battleships and shell the fort with the remainder. We land all our troops on the peninsula, and have the transports hang back and pick off ships that might try to escape. Strike, how many entrances are there?"

"Two," Strike said. "One towards the port and one out towards the towns."

"Excellent." Faker grinned; Austin could tell he was envisioning not only their victory, but his personal triumph. "We tell the reserve ships to pepper the road to the docks, so nobody can get out that way. Then, we march our host up to the gates, and storm in. They'll be caught."

"Maybe it could work," Austin said. "The fog will certainly give us an element of surprise. But I still think the garrisons could pose a problem. What if they flank us while we're in the fort? Then we'll be the ones who are trapped!"

"And what do you suggest?" Faker asked. Austin stroked her chin.

"I say we split our forces," she said. "We take half the transports and sail them around the north end of the peninsula, and we strike Sarissa. From there, the men march on Septesors, and both garrisons are gone.

"The rest of us gather outside the fort. We breach the walls, not the gate, and keep the artillery trained on the gate in case they try to counterattack. Our men storm the breach, take the fort, and the League is headless."

Strike and Faker exchanged glances. "It's a risky plan," Strike said. "Dividing our forces could lead us to a rout."

"Or we could rout them," Faker said. He stroked his chin. "I like this plan. Bold. Daring. But I think we can pull it off."

Strike furrowed his brow. "Very well," he said. "But we should all be there for the fort assault. I'll have my second-in-command take half of the fleet to Sarissa. You two can make landfall. I'll lead the naval assault."

"And give up your chance at Zealander?" Austin asked. Strike shrugged.

"As long as he's dead," he said reluctantly.

"Then we are in accord," Faker said, a sadistic grin on his face. "I'll relay the orders. Today, victory will be ours."

* * *

From the citadel balcony, Nitesco stared out over the foggy lake, clutching a map of Bumblebee, deep in thought. Bumblebee was fighting a quagmire war with the Church, and though they had lost much of the southern plains, the highlands remained independent. Perhaps he could join up with them, recruit the stubborn Bumblebeeans to the League. Or maybe he could sabotage the Church there, and keep their wheels stuck in the mud. Or maybe—

"Nitesco," Vulpix said, interrupting his reverie. He had agreed, after much protest, to come down from his room and join them for lunch. "You've been sulking all morning. You need to eat. Come sit down."

"Sorry," Nitesco mumbled. He sat down next to Gwydion, still preoccupied, and took a spoonful of porridge. Gwydion sighed and put down his fork.

"Nitesco," he said, "I'm going to be frank. This behavior of yours is bad for your health. For the past week, when you haven't been slaving over plans and maps and strategy meetings, you've been pacing or staring at a window. You barely eat, you hardly sleep, and you haven't been out of the tower in weeks!"

"I'm busy guiding a war," Nitesco snapped. "Have you forgotten what's happening right on our doorstep?"

"We know there's a war," Vulpix said. He had taken on a fatherly tone. "And we all do our part. But Nitesco, you can't run yourself into the ground over this!" He paused. "Is this about Austin?"

Nitesco flinched at the mention of her name, and both Gwydion and Vulpix sighed. He had told them the necessary details—McDouggal's death, her working with Faker—but that was it. They had further suspicions about it, Nitesco knew, but neither of them asked him.

"Don't look at me like that," Nitesco chastised them. "I haven't gone mad. But I know she's out there, giving them information, helping them plan campaigns. We can't let her. We have to crush the Church before they can use her further!"

"And we will," Gwydion said. "We will do everything we can. But you cannot run yourself ragged. You're the last of our commanders. If you aren't up to the fight, who is?"

Nitesco sighed and spooned another glob of porridge into his mouth. "But you understand where I'm coming from, right?"

"We do," Gwydion said. "And believe me, I know. She seemed… so earnest. Nobody could've expected it."

"She's a woman of principle," Vulpix added. "We can find some comfort that she did it from some misguided virtue, rather than personal gain."

Nitesco and Gwydion both looked at him. "Are you defending her?" Nitesco asked.

"Not at all," Vulpix said. "But I know what it's like to be disillusioned with a cause. Do I agree with her? No. Do I hate her for this?" He paused for a moment. "Perhaps. But at least it was for the right reasons."

"But why?" Nitesco asked. "I don't understand what would drive her to do it!"

"Defeat changes a person," Vulpix said. "Believe me, I know. But maybe there's something more to it."

"What do you mean?" Gwydion asked. A cold gust of wind blew into the chambers, blowing out the candles.

"Well," Vulpix said. "Quixotic wasn't really a traitor, was he? He just appeared to be. Maybe…" He swallowed. "Maybe it's the same for her. I don't think she's capable of true betrayal."

"Quixotic was different. Don't get your hopes up," Nitesco chided. but the thought had crossed his mind as well. He never indulged those thoughts for long, though. He couldn't afford to get attached to the idea.

"I wouldn't bank on that," Gwydion agreed. "Take things at face value. It's much less risky."

"I'm not saying it's fact," Vulpix said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm only saying it could be a possibility."

A loud clanging suddenly filled the room, and the three of them stood up in alarm. From the window, they could see the soldiers bustling about, and they saw ships beginning to buzz around the seas.

"That's not the lunch bell, is it?" Gwydion asked. Nitesco paced over to the window. Through the thick fog, he could see bright flashes of light, and ships flooded the inlet; ships that did not belong to them.

"No," Nitesco said. "We're under attack. Rally the soldiers!"

Gwydion sprinted out of the room without delay, knocking his plate from the table in the process. "I'll send ravens to the garrisons!" Vulpix yelled, both to Gwydion and Nitesco. "Go join the men! I'll take charge of the guns!" With that, he was gone too.

Nitesco turned his attention back to the seas. The wall cannons were peppering the fog, but they could not discern who was friend and who was foe. As he watched the battle commence, he had a sinking feeling that Austin was among the enemies.

"Well," he said to himself, "I knew it'd happen sooner or later." With a final glance out the window, he ran down the stairs to join the battle.

* * *

By the time Austin and Faker had finally landed on the beach, the fort walls had been split wide open. The artillery had already taken up their positions in front of the gate and the breach, hammering any soldiers who attempted to counterattack with cannonballs. Faker and Austin walked along the beach, looking over the fort, planning their assault.

"Where do you think the commanders will be?" Faker asked. He seemed very focused, but not in his usual frivolous manner. He only wanted one thing out of this, Austin knew, and that might distract him.

"Well," Austin said. "Gwydion and Vulpix may be in the tower, or on the walls. They'll fight when they need to, but in defensive situations like this they prefer to hunker down. Nitesco, on the other hand, will probably be with the soldiers."

"Will he now?" Faker stroked his chin. "Most interesting. Speaking of soldiers, we should attend to our own."

Their soldiers had massed behind the artillery, outside the breach. They were a patchwork lot: some young, some old, some men and some women. But they were all Church men, all itching for a fight. Faker looked at them and smiled.

"Soldiers!" he cried. They snapped to attention with synchronization that impressed Austin. "Today, the League's reign of terror is at an end!"

The soldiers lifted their weapons and cheered, just as the artillery shot off another round into the breach. Faker ignored it.

"Nitesco and his traitor friends have defied the will of the Subreddit for too long! They have started a war, for their own ambition! They speak of peace and commit atrocities! Their hypocrisy ends today!"

Faker turned and jabbed his sword at the breach, and Austin watched as the ranks of soldiers readied themselves to charge. Not a single one of them had any fear on their face. What could inspire them so?

"The League began this war!" Faker shouted. "And today, we finish it! Charge!"

The men bellowed a war cry and streamed around Faker, flooding in through the breach. From what little Austin could see of the fort's interior, it was going to be a bloodbath.

"Ready, Austin?" Faker said, an almost inappropriately friendly smile on his face. Austin frowned and drew her sword.

"When you are," she said. Faker chuckled.

"Don't look so glum," he said. "You won't have to kill anyone important. Leave that to me." With that, Faker joined the tide of Church soldiers, and Austin had no choice but to follow.

As soon as Austin clambered through the broken wall, the din of battle became deafening. The Church soldiers surged forward, viciously trying to break through the impromptu defenses the League had created, and the League soldiers desperately swarmed the soldiers in an effort to prevent that. Faker descended into the fray, hacking his enemies away with a mix of precision and recklessness. Austin knocked a soldier aside and yanked Faker back before he was lost in the throng of soldiers.

"What was that for?!" he shouted as Austin pulled him back. "We need to get the commanders!"

"We won't find them down here!" Austin said, and she pointed at a staircase leading up to the walls. "Let's get to higher ground. If we don't find them up there, then we can scout them out from a vantage point. Yes?"

Faker nodded. "Very well. Lead the way."

The stairs up to the walls were nearly empty, with all its defenders either manning the parapets and artillery or down on the ground. There were a couple soldiers sent down to join the melee, but Faker charged ahead to deal with them. Austin winced as he dispatched them with ruthless grace, but continued forward nonetheless.

The two arrived at the door of the command tower, which had been left flung open in the panic, and finally stopped. Faker pressed himself against one side of the doorway and listened.

"Can you hear them?" Faker asked. His hand remained clasped around the hilt of his sword, and Austin leaned into the doorway to see if she could hear anything.

"I don't think so," she said. "Maybe they're—wait!" Loud footsteps and the sound of distant conversation alarmed her, and she pressed herself against the wall opposite Faker.

Austin was able to make out a deep baritone as the voices got closer. "—much smaller than anticipated. Most are transports, but they caught most ships in dock. We only need to take a few warships down to regain the advantage."

Faker squinted upon hearing the voice, unable to discern who it was, but Austin knew. It was Gwydion.

"Then our admirals will have to deal with that." A higher voice spoke, and they both knew that one was Nitesco. Faker began drawing his sword slowly from his sheath. "We're damn near overwhelmed here. You're sure the garrisons aren't arriving?"

"It's been long enough," Gwydion said. "They've likely been attacked as well. Perhaps that's why they have so few ships."

Nitesco scoffed. "I could give a damn about their navy. It doesn't matter if we sink their whole fleet if it's a bloodbath in here!" He sighed. "Come with me. I need to get a closer look at this carnage."

Faker seized the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance, leaping through the open door with his sword drawn. "The only carnage you'll see today will be in here, Nitesco!" Faker shouted. "Today, the League dies!"

Nitesco and Gwydion drew their swords, and Gwydion scoffed. "You're getting ahead of yourself," Nitesco scolded. "You couldn't beat me one-on-one, and now you have two opponents. Do you think you can do this alone?"

"Of course not," Faker said. "That's why I brought a friend."

Austin walked into the room, hand on her hilt, and watching Nitesco and Gwydion almost broke her heart. Nitesco's focus instantly dissolved upon seeing her, his determination giving way to surprise and sadness. Gwydion, though, only mustered up more fury than before.

"Traitor," he growled. Nitesco straightened up and put on a brave face.

"Easy, Gwydion," he said. "Don't do anything rash."

"That's right, little pup," Faker said. "Stay on your leash."

"Shut up, child." Gwydion spoke to Faker, but his eyes never wavered from Austin. "Go fight Nitesco like you came here to do. I'll deal with this."

"Very well," Faker said, noting Austin's silence. "Nitesco, shall we take this out to the walls? I feel like this will be too cramped with the four of us in here."

Nitesco glanced from Faker, to Austin, to Gwydion, who gave him a small nod. Nitesco sighed.

"Very well," he said, and he began backing towards the other exit directly behind him. Faker kept his eyes on Gwydion as he followed Nitesco out, and Gwydion and Austin were all alone.

The two stood there in silence for a few moments, each one measuring the other's posture, their position, and the room around them. Gwydion shifted into an offensive position.

"I was expecting an explanation," Gwydion said at last. "Nothing to say? No speech on why you did it?"

"Neither of us wants to hear me talk about it," Austin said. Gwydion gave a dry chuckle.

"You're right about that at least," Gwydion said. "But only that. You'll pay for your treason."

"I'm no traitor. I'm only doing what's right," Austin said. Gwydion's face contorted in anger.

"Then I won't be sorry to see you gone!" Gwydion exclaimed. He charged her, and the duel began.

* * *

Vulpix watched the chaos from the fort walls, and nervously wrung the now soot-covered gloves on his hands. The fort interior was a disaster: The Church's men had made the courtyard a bloodbath, and the stairs up the walls were literally slick with the blood of the men who tried to charge up. But the bay was its own beast: the harbor was littered with splintered wood. Vulpix, though, was astounded by how few ships the Church had brought to battle. Was it all transports?

Another cannon volley went into the harbor, holing an Enablerish schooner beneath the waterline. The artillerymen cheered and began loading another barrage.

"General Zealander!" A young man ran up to him, clearly out of breath.

"Scout," Vulpix replied. "Report."

"I have news from the harbor," the scout said, in between breaths. "One of our runners went out to the bay and got a closer look. They haven't got many proper ships sir. Mostly transports, a few decent warships. But they've got a river flagship with them, sir. Arkosian colors."

"Our colors?" Vulpix looked out into the fog, seeking to verify that for himself, but it was too thick to peer through. "Did it have a standard with it?"

"Um, it did, sir." The scout stammered when he spoke. Vulpix was in no mood for it. He grabbed the scout by the collar and dragged him close.

"Whose standard?" Vulpix asked. "Which of my admirals has gone over to these dogs?"

"Not an admiral, sir," the scout squealed. "A colonel. Colonel Strike!"

As hard as he tried, Vulpix could not disguise the look of shock on his face. Strike, alive? And with the Church?

"Impossible," Vulpix muttered. "I killed him, at—"

But he never saw the body, Vulpix realized, and Strike was a smart man. He would've realized that Vulpix betrayed him. Perhaps he would've gone over to the Church. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that he was out there, on the water, with a flagship hammering the docked fleet to smithereens.

"Run down to the cave docks, beneath the fort," Vulpix commanded the scout. "It's just down that spiral staircase. Tell the men there to send out the fireship. I'll get Strike in range."

The scout furrowed his brow. "How?"

"Leave that to me," Vulpix said. "Now go!" The scout did as he was told, running down the stairs to the shallows dock.

As Vulpix turned his attention back to the harbor, he saw Strike's ship appear in the mists: a hulking behemoth of a vessel, pointed straight at the fort. It swayed slightly, turning to fire a broadside at a brig. He swallowed.

"Men!" he bellowed. "You see that behemoth there? When it comes in range, blow it out of the water!"

The artillerymen stopped their cheering to give him an odd look. "Sir," one of them said, "the water near the beaches is too shallow for that vessel. It'll never get in range."

"Oh, yes it will," Vulpix said. "Just do as I say. Leave that to me!" The soldiers exchanged glances, but they obeyed. As he watched them go to work, Vulpix unlatched a firework from his belt.

"Well, Strike," he said to himself. "Time to see if you remember what I taught you."

Vulpix stuck the fuse of the firework into a torch, lighting it, and he held it up in the air. After a few seconds, he felt it leave his hand, rocketing upwards before exploding in a brilliant plume of yellow sparks: the distress flare of an Arkosian officer. Strike would know exactly who it was.

Within seconds, Strike's flagship was turning, aiming itself towards the fortress walls, before it struck forward at lightning speed. A loader gasped and turned to Vulpix.

"He's charging the walls!" she exclaimed. "Is he mad?"

"Not as mad as he's going to be," Vulpix said. "He's in range! Fire!"

The artillerymen obeyed, firing a volley into the speeding ships. Strike's ship banked and turned, opening a broadside on the exposed walls. The wall shuddered and crumbled, and down the line, a few cannons were taken out. Vulpix fell backwards, but swiftly got back up and dusted himself off.

"Sir!" The artillery captain yelled. "Should we fire another volley?"

Vulpix pressed himself up against the walls and looked over to the shallows docks. Through the smoke, he saw the bright flames of the fireship beelining toward the flagship, and he smiled.

"Don't bother," Vulpix said. "Stand back and watch."

As soon as they had all taken a few steps back, the fireship collided with Strike's vessel and the gunpowder in their holds exploded in a massive, fiery cloud. The flagship cracked, almost in two, and began sinking. Vulpix watched with some satisfaction as a swarm of lifeboats fell from the sinking ship.

"Should we target the lifeboats?" the artillery captain asked.

Vulpix pursed his lips as he looked at the lifeboats, but he shook his head. "No," he said. "You're not likely to hit anything. What's the good in sinking a few soaked Church sailors?"

"Then what should we do?" the loader asked. Vulpix stroked his chin and turned to the fort interior. The League men were holding the line well, but no matter how many Church soldiers they slew, more came to take their place, which meant they were keeping reserves outside the walls. They couldn't open the gates because the Church's artillery would gun down any flankers… but they could match their artillery.

"Roll the cannons toward the breach," Vulpix said. "Half down the north wall, half down the south and west. We're going to barrage their camps."

"But what of the ships?" The artillery captain asked. Vulpix looked out at the harbor and shrugged.

"Our navy can handle theirs now," he said. "Start moving! We can still win this day!"

As the artillerymen began dragging their cannons across the walls toward the breach, the captain stayed behind. "What will you do, sir?" he asked.

Vulpix looked over the wall at the sinking ship, watching the lifeboats. "I leave the guns in your hands," he said. "I must attend to… other matters."

"As you wish," the captain said, but Vulpix was already off, down to the cave docks, to get a closer look.

* * *

Gwydion whirled and spun, striking at Austin at every angle imaginable, but Austin kept each hit away. Gwydion was becoming angry, she noticed; she had taken on a purely reactive strategy, parrying and deflecting, but not striking back. It infuriated him.

Gwydion yelled and swung his sword down diagonally, only for Austin to knock it away. He grit his teeth and lunged at her, but he was again knocked aside. His defenses were open, just for a moment, but Austin did not seize the opportunity.

"Stop toying with me!" Gwydion shouted. He rained down a barrage of blows, but Austin silently blocked them all. Austin finally responded with a kick to the abdomen, but this did not deter Gwydion.

"Have you nothing to say?" Gwydion asked. Austin shook her head.

"I don't want to kill you, Gwydion," she said. He merely grit his teeth and shifted into a reactive stance.

"I don't care what you want," he said, and for a moment, his expression softened. "You betrayed us. Why? We trusted you, made you one of us, and you turned your back on the entire country!"

"You'll understand soon enough," Austin said. Gwydion's anger returned, and he charged her.

"Enough games!" he shouted. He kicked Austin in the kneecap and sent her tumbling, but she rolled out of the way of his downward thrust. As she stood, she swung her sword upward and cut Gwydion across the forehead.

"I'm not playing games," Austin said. "Stand down. You will be treated fairly as my prisoner."

Gwydion looked at her as if she had just said something completely stupid. "I didn't come all this way just to rot in prison!" he exclaimed, and he lunged again. Austin, in response, drew the hand cannon from her coat and aimed it at him, causing him to flinch and halt his attack.

"Where did you get—" Gwydion began, but Austin bludgeoned him with the hand cannon before he could finish. While he was stunned, she kicked him into a table, and knocked him out cold.

Austin sheathed her sword and took a deep breath, unsure of what to do next. Out the left door of the room, she could hear faint sounds of swords clanging, which told her Nitesco was still alive. Out the right door, she heard shouting and cannon fire.

Cannon fire?

Austin rushed out the right door and saw that the cannons had been moved onto the fort walls facing out, towards their camps. Faker had not bothered to entrench their artillery or their reserves and instead left them out in the open. If they weren't totally destroyed, then their backup was at least severely vulnerable. The melee at the base of the wall was also thinning, as fewer and fewer Church soldiers were coming to join the fray. Their backup was depleted, and if the artillery had been moved from the seas, that meant that their navy was likely decimated as well. The battle was lost.

Gwydion groaned and began shuffling to his feet, but Austin ignored him. She raced out the opposite door, where Faker was locked in combat with Nitesco.

"Faker!" She shouted, and Faker was distracted just long enough to whiff his parry. Nitesco moved to stab him, but Faker kicked him back and turned to Austin.

"I'm in the middle of something!" he shouted.

"We've been routed!" she yelled, and suddenly she had his attention. She sprinted past him, grabbing his arm and yanking him along. Faker matched her pace, ignoring Nitesco's jeers but casting a backwards glance at him.

"I almost had him that time," he said. He wiped the blood from his face.

"Yeah," Austin said, "but they'll have both of us if we don't get out of here now."

"Touche," Faker said. "How did they get our reserves?"

"They moved their wall guns to bombard them," Austin explained. "We left them unentrenched. I can only assume our navy is shot as well."

"Then how will we make our escape?" Faker asked. Austin shook her head. They can come to the edge of the wall, overlooking the sea. On the path behind them was Nitesco and Gwydion. On the path to their left was a swarm of artillerymen. To their right, though, was a small tower, in which Austin saw a small spiral staircase.

"That way!" she shouted, pointing at the tower. "I know the Arkosians like their secret escape routes. That right there's probably one of them!"

Faker cast a glance behind them, and he saw that Nitesco and Gwydion were now giving chase. With the commanders behind them and several men in earshot, Austin knew he couldn't afford a fight.

"Fine," he said. "Let's go."

The pair ducked into the tower, rapidly descending the staircase, feeling the cold dampness grow the farther down they went. Austin hoped there was nobody down there.

They arrived in a small grotto, a cave well out of the way of the main shores, filled with small docks and schooners. There was nobody, save for one man in a crimson uniform, trying to see out the cave and through the fog.

"General Zealander," Faker sneered. Vulpix turned around and drew his saber.

"Lord Faker," he said, and his eyes narrowed on Austin. "And you brought her with you. Tell me, Austin, has the Church treated you well?"

"I wish we could discuss that," Austin said, "but we really must be going. Stand down, and we will let you live."

"Stand down, huh?" Vulpix said. He moved into a combat stance. "Not while I still breathe."

"That can be taken care of," Faker growled. He drew his sword and pointed it at Vulpix. Austin reluctantly did the same.

"You should be the ones to stand down." Austin heard a voice behind her, and she knew instinctively it was Nitesco. She cast a backwards glance and saw he and Gwydion had arrived, but only the two of them. Faker turned to face the pair.

"No way," Faker said. "We've put too much into this to give up now."

"And if you stay on your course, you'll just lose more," Vulpix said. Austin stopped him from moving by pulling the hand cannon on him. He flinched.

"You going to kill him with my own weapon?" Gwydion asked. "How ironic, at least for me."

"Stand down, you two," Nitesco demanded. His voice was deep and strong, but it quivered with unease. "I won't ask again."

"Nor will I," Faker said. "Shoot him, Austin. Shoot Zealander, and we can take Nitesco and Gwydion. We might've lost our forces, but if we kill these three upstarts, then it won't be for nothing!"

The five shifted awkwardly, sizing up their opponents, preparing their moves. Austin swallowed.

"Don't do this, Austin," Vulpix said. His face had softened, but he stood firm. "I know what it's like. I know you know this isn't right. Don't ignore that feeling! Don't try to justify it! Come back to us," he pleaded. "Don't die a traitor."

"Ignore his prattling," Faker said. Austin could tell he was eager for blood. "Don't let the fool pull his pathos on you. He's bluffing. Kill him and we can take the other two."

Austin cast a backwards glance at Nitesco and Gwydion, measuring their reluctant expressions, and looked to Faker. "Even so," she said, "it'll be a tough fight." She pointed her sword at Gwydion and turned to keep an eye on Vulpix. "Just in case, you got any last words?"

Faker scoffed and prepared to fight. "Please. I won't need them."

Austin sighed. "Well," she said, "you can't say I didn't offer." She pressed the hand cannon against his back and pulled the trigger.

The sound filled the cave, echoing off the walls and nearly deafening Austin. Faker's chest exploded in an eruption of blood and bone, splattering Nitesco with viscera and causing Faker to scream in shock and pain. He instantly dropped his sword and staggered forward, cupping the river of blood streaming from his chest as he fumbled at Nitesco. Nitesco, horrified, stood frozen in shock as Faker grabbed him by the collar and sank to his knees.

"You have killed me," Faker wheezed, the blood in his lungs making a sickening gurgle as it spilled onto Nitesco's coat.

"No," Austin said, and Faker turned from Nitesco to look at her. "I killed you."

Faker said nothing. His expression changed from anger, to bewilderment, and then back to anger. Finally, his face went slack with defeat, and his hands fell away from Nitesco's collar. "Damn," he said at last, and he fell backwards into the water.

Nitesco, Gwydion, and Vulpix stood frozen, unsure of how to react. "Good god," Gwydion said at last. "Why?"

"You've asked that question a lot today. I believe this is yours," Austin remarked, and she held out the hand cannon to him. Gwydion eyed her, leery, but plucked it from her hand before retreating.

"You killed him," Nitesco said. He was still dripping with Faker's blood, still watching as the man's body slowly sank in the cave waters. "I mean— oh, dear me, that was bloody. Oh, god." He sheathed his sword and steadied himself. "Why?"

"Didn't I tell you to trust me?" Austin asked. Her eyes were hot and heavy with tears, but she managed a dry chuckle anyway. "I'm sorry. I didn't have a chance to explain. But know that I never betrayed you, not for a second. I would never."

"You killed McDouggal," Gwydion said, still untrusting. Austin nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I did. I regret it, and I hate myself for it, but it bought me time. I waited for the chance to strike, to pull the rug out from under them. Finally, I have," she said, looking at Faker's body. "And now I have knowledge. I have plans."

"If what you say is true," Vulpix said, creeping up beside her, "then you have done well. But you must understand our caution. And you must understand that this won't settle immediately."

"I know," Austin said, barely above a whisper. Gwydion nodded along and cast another glance at Faker's body.

"Come on," Vulpix said. "We've got a battle to win." He and Gwydion went up the stairs, returning to the fort, but Nitesco stayed behind.

Nitesco said, "You remind me so much of him, you know?"

"Of who?" Austin said. "My—"

Nitesco pulled her into a hug, and for a moment, Austin didn't know what to do. Finally, she hugged him back, grasping him tight and trying not to cry. After standing, silent, for some time, Nitesco pulled away and smiled.

"It's good to have you back," he said. He went up the stairs and back to the battle, leaving Austin alone with her thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**August 7, 9 ATC**

**Town of Sarissa, Governorship of Liberis, Military Republic of Arkos**

The town was abuzz with activity: soldiers mulled to and fro, moving what they had captured from the Arkosian fleet into storage. The half of the fleet Austin sent toward Sarissa had failed miserably, just as she intended. The fleet was horribly outnumbered, those that managed to get on shore were slaughtered to a man, and the rest of the fleet opted to surrender rather than face Arkos' navy. Whatever their naval losses at Fort Jaunerrha, they had just acquired half a fleet and all the supplies on it; more than enough to compensate. And Austin knew exactly what to do with them.

Austin walked into the mayoral manor, which had been placed under heavy guard. The guardsmen eyed Austin cautiously, but kept their peace. Nitesco hadn't had the chance to announce Austin's defection, and when asked where Austin had been, simply stated that she had been away on the Rubian front. Nobody cared enough to question it.

The conference room was dusty and dry, but it was good to be back with her friends. Although, it was a bit early for that: no one was in the conference room except one.

"Austin," Gwydion said, looking up from his papers. He had warmed significantly since the assault on the fort, despite his initial suspicions. Seeing the schematics he had scrawled on his papers, Austin raised an eyebrow.

"What's that you've got there?" she asked. Gwydion shuffled his papers and put them aside before pulling the hand cannon out of his cloak.

"It's a new project I'm working on," Gwydion said. "More ambitious than any other I've planned. You see, I'm very fond of the hand cannon. It's effective, powerful… but only against one target, and it's a pain to reload. All fine and good for officers to get in a quick shot, but not for regular troops." He picked up a case sitting next to him and placed it on the table.

"So I made a new weapon," he said. He opened the case, pulling out a massive gun. It resembled the hand cannon in terms of mechanism, but it was large and bulky, with a gaping mouth and a heavy stock. Gwydion eyed it with pride. "The blunderbuss. This baby can blast anything within ten feet of it into bloody shrapnel."

"That's… impressive?" Austin said. She had forgotten how eager Gwydion could be over his works. He ignored her, running his hands over the rough wood.

"For sure," he said, "but I'm afraid I made it too powerful. The first time I used it, it blew the front end off the barrel, though I suppose it did the same to King Dat."

"You shot the King of Freezerburn with that?" Austin asked. She chuckled and put a hand on her head. "I've missed way too much."

"I'd be happy to catch you up," Nitesco said. Austin turned around and smiled.

"Ever the sneaky one," Austin said. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Maybe I'm just that good," Nitesco replied. "Or maybe you're out of practice." He smiled and gestured to her seat, just to the left of the head of the table.

"My old spot," she said. Nitesco chuckled.

"It's only fitting," he said. "Where else would you go?" Austin, unsure of what to say, merely smiled and sat down. Nitesco took his seat as well.

"Nitesco," she whispered. "About what I did. About McDouggal…"

"Don't worry about it," Nitesco said. His voice was soothing, but underneath, Austin could tell he was still sorrowful. "I understand. I didn't like it, but I know that you had to do it. Better he died to you than to that brute Faker." His expression lightened, and he took her hand. "And now, with what you've gathered, we can avenge him. We can avenge Coronam, and Kazehh, and Jelo. We can make it all right."

Austin's eyes felt warm. "Thank you," she whispered. "I didn't expect you to be so… forgiving."

"I would just like to say," Vulpix said, entering the room, "that I called it." Austin looked up and saw that the rest of their allies had begun filing in. Vulpix took his seat, and behind him, Contramundi and the Mask filed in.

"You certainly never forgot how to make an entrance," Nitesco said. He folded his hands in front of him. The Mask sat down in between Austin and Gwydion, and even underneath the drab wood mask, Austin knew he was grinning.

"Sorry, Nitesco," the Mask said in his gravelly baritone. "Were you having a moment?"

Gwydion stacked his papers and chuckled. "He wishes."

"I will bury you," Nitesco said, smiling, but flustered. Gwydion rasped with laughter. Contramundi chuckled and sat down as well.

"Gentlemen, please," he said, his hands wide in a placating gesture. "There is no need for hostilities. This should be a time for celebration! Zissman lies exposed, and more importantly, Faker is dead. I only wish that I had been there to see it." He turned to Austin and gave a small bow. "Fine shooting, by the way. And fine gameplay."

"Indeed," said Opifexa, the last to arrive. She sat down in the seat to Nitesco's right, Coronam's old seat. "And though I commend your sacrifices, I would've appreciated being informed of what happened before it resolved itself!" She punctuated this statement with a sharp glare at Nitesco, who shrunk in his seat a little. Austin had also forgotten how acrid Renorans could be.

"I apologize," Nitesco said. "But circumstances demanded that I keep it as quiet as possible. Imagine if that had leaked to the men! What a horrible blow to morale that would've been!"

"Then you're lucky the situation solved itself," Contramundi said, his tone less jovial. "Communication is key, even if Opifexa and I were busy running our nations."

"We can have this discussion later," Gwydion said. "Right now, we should be focusing on the opportunity we have. Zissman doesn't know Austin is a traitor, or that she's still alive. We can end the war within a month if we play our cards right."

All eyes turned to Austin. "Austin," Opifexa said. "What have you learned?"

Austin straightened up. "Zissman has overextended himself," she said. "He is distracted by the war. His puppets can hold the war in Heroa, but he knows that the League is a major threat in Rubia, Junipera, and Villainia. That's why he tried to neutralize the leadership here, to disorganize us. He has too many fronts and not enough troops; too many schemes and not enough agents. If we take him and Jannis out, the Church here will be headless, and his war will fall apart without him."

"Where is he now?" Nitesco asked.

"He has chosen to supervise the war in Bumblebee," Austin said. "He says it is the key to holding Rubia. Last I heard, he planned to move to Fort Bombus to meet me and Strike upon our return."

Vulpix's expression soured upon hearing Strike's name, but the Mask leaned forward in surprise. "I'm sorry," he said. "Did you say Fort Bombus?"

"I did," said Austin. "Is there something significant about that?"

"Indeed," the Mask said. "And it is most fortuitous. One of my spies reported that several high-profile League captives were being transported to Fort Bombus. Among them were Kazehh, and possibly even Coronam."

A moment of silence descended on them. There was a chance they could get Coronam back.

"Coronam." Opifexa said his name with a mix of eagerness and fear. "We must retrieve him."

"Kazehh too," Austin said. She knew Zissman would've kept him alive out of respect for her, but to have him back would mean so much.

"Then it is even more imperative that our plan goes off without a hitch," Nitesco said. "We cannot allow the Church an opportunity to recover, nor can we let slip these opportunities. Austin," he said. "We cannot fail."

"And we won't," Austin said. "I have an idea."

"Don't keep us in suspense," Contramundi grumbled, though he, like the rest of them, hung on her words.

"Fort Bombus is slightly inland of a small river," Austin said. "That river forks in the middle. One half flows north, to a town called Cera, a holdout for the legitimate government of Bumblebee. Zissman wanted to be there when they conquered the town."

"He reminds me of Celtic," Vulpix said. Nitesco and Gwydion nodded.

"The other fork," Austin continued, "travels east, toward the town of Honig. It's loyal to the Church, and it's where I'll make landfall to infiltrate the fort."

"Infiltrate the fort?" Nitesco cocked his head. "And how will you do that?"

"I already have a story to explain my absence to Zissman," Austin explained. "I will say that I was forced to retreat inland after Strike retreated. I'll say that, with the few men left to me, I hijacked an Arkosian schooner at port. Zissman may be suspicious, but he'll take it for granted. And then we'll strike."

"And what of Coronam?" Opifexa asked.

"Will this be just an assassination?" The Mask asked. "That won't do enough damage. We must do more!"

"And we will," Austin assuaged him. "I have a plan for that too. One of you will lead the forces we have to Cera, and there you will counterattack the Church's siege."

"Counterattack the siege?" Gwydion asked. "That's a tall order."

"Not quite," Austin said. "Zissman is just trying to starve them out; he can't afford a real siege. He's set up a skeleton crew there, to fool them into staying inside the town. It shouldn't be hard to break out. And you'll know exactly when to do it."

"And when will that be?" Nitesco asked.

"That's where the second part of my plan comes into play," Austin said. "The "crew" I'm taking with me on the Arkosian schooner will be made up of my men. I'll split them into two teams: one of them will go down to the jails and liberate the prisoners, hopefully retrieving Kazehh and Coronam. Second, another team will go down to the armory and detonate the gunpowder there. The resulting explosion will blow up the wall, and as the forces at Cera break the siege, you'll have an opening to storm in and take the fort."

"And you know that the Bumblebeeans keep their gunpowder so close to the walls?" Vulpix asked. "That seems like a gamble."

"The whole thing's a gamble," Austin said. "But I'm certain of that. All Bumblebeean forts have a similar layout, and I know exactly where the armory is and what's in it. Foolish, yes, but I wasn't about to correct them."

The other commanders looked around, nodding slowly. Austin knew, they all knew, that they had little choice in the matter. They had won at Jaunerrha, but they were still on the ropes. This was their chance to take back their leverage. They couldn't afford to be picky.

"It's bold," Contramundi observed.

"We have to be," Gwydion said. "But I like this plan. If we catch them flatfooted, then our odds of victory are good." Murmurs of agreement. They were in accord.

"Who will lead the attack on the field?" The Mask asked. Vulpix raised his hand.

"I will do it," he said. "I haven't had a chance, a real chance, to be on the field in a long time. It's been too long, I think."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Gwydion asked. "It's been too long since I've taken the field as a commander, rather than a combatant."

Vulpix was taken aback, but smiled. "I know better than to stop you when you've got your mind on something. Nitesco, will you be joining us as well?"

Nitesco drummed his fingers, thinking, but shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I want to be there to see Austin lop off Zissman's head." He turned to Austin, his eyes alight with a youthful earnest. "Would you mind if I joined you in your infiltration?"

"Are you sure?" Austin asked. "Every man and woman in the Church's service knows your face. And the leg is a dead giveaway."

"I'll wear a helmet," Nitesco said. "And I'll just slap some chainmail over the leg. Nobody will know the difference."

Austin sighed, but kept a smile. "Very well," she said. "You can lead the attack on the armory. Sound good?"

"Sounds fantastic," he said. Austin's smile became even wider.

"If I may," Opifexa said, "I would also like to join the attack. If Nitesco attacks the armory, I can liberate the prisons!"

Nitesco and Austin exchanged looks. "I don't doubt your conviction," Austin said. "But do you know how to fight?"

"Yes!" Opifexa said, unusually eager. "I learned from Coronam. I can handle myself, and I'll have men with me." She sighed. "Please," she said. "I owe him this."

Austin looked to Nitesco, who shrugged. "Very well," Austin said. "You will accompany us." Opifexa nodded slowly and returned to silence.

"And what can I do?" Contramundi asked.

"You can join us on the field," Gwydion said. "Vulpix can lead the center. I usually take the left flank. Can you handle the right?"

"As best I can," Contramundi said. "I'm a little rusty with a sword, but I can tell others what to do just fine."

"I will travel to Enabler," the Mask said. "If the battle goes awry, I have a fortress in the mountains on the border with Bumblebee. We can recoup there if we need to."

"I hope we don't have to," Vulpix said.

"I hope we won't have to too," Austin said. "But I'm confident we'll succeed. And if we do, then the Subreddit will be free once again."

Nitesco raised his fist in the air and shouted: "For the League!"

"For the League!" the rest of them chanted, and Austin joined in. It felt good to be where she belonged.

* * *

**August 8, 9 ATC**

**Town of Honig, Province of Hiven, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Strike wrung his hands together as he walked up the acropolis of Honig in the light of the setting sun. The river fleet he had brought to the battle was reduced to a quarter of its original size. Almost all the men they had brought on the expedition were certainly dead, or at least captured. And to top it all off, not one but two high-ranking commanders were left behind. Austin didn't matter; he had never liked her and Zissman had kept her defection relatively quiet, to ensure the League wouldn't try to patch up any weaknesses she might've known about. Few soldiers would miss her. But Faker was another matter entirely. As Zissman's foremost military ally, news of his loss would spread like wildfire. Better he break the news to Zissman himself.

Finally, Strike reached the summit of the acropolis and came face-to-face with the massive cathedral Zissman had commissioned. After occupying the town and razing the previous mayor's manor, Zissman had begun building a cathedral, the first of his own design rather than seized from other religions in the name of the Goddess. And even though it was only half-finished, and even though Strike had never much cared for the Church's religion, the cathedral was a sight to behold. Strike began circling around the back to enter through the priest's entrance.

The guards at the back recognized him and let him through, worried by his panicked expression. The room was small, and only had a few tables and chairs for the many priests that officiated a Church mass. There was nobody else there, but he could hear the sounds of the mass from the door, which led out into the cathedral altar. Strike crept over to the doorway, to see if he could wave Zissman over.

Strike poked his head out the doorway and saw Zissman standing over a large plate on the altar, surrounded by several priests. As the priests cast incense into the fire, Zissman stared up into the smoke, his arms spread out, and recited the liturgy.

"Loyal followers," he said in a booming voice, "when you entered this holy hall, you anointed yourselves with the waters and the holy oil. You have been affirmed in the Goddess' sight, but you are yet to be forgiven. You must affirm your faith as well as your soul, in order to be truly absolved!"

"As it once was, so shall it be." The crowd responded as one, and the people buzzed with fervor. Zissman's missionaries had clearly done their jobs well.

"Do you affirm that the Red Maiden was uplifted by and unified with the Goddess?" Zissman asked the crowd.

"I do!" The crowd responded as one.

"Do you affirm that the Red Maiden preached the Goddess' message, so that we may know the truth of the world and the path to salvation?"

"I do!" The crowd responded again.

"Do you affirm that the Red Maiden suffered and died so that the Goddess would know our human pain and grant us mercy?"

"I do!"

"Do you accept the authority of her teachings, the veracity of the Scripture, and the succession of her mission by the Three Maidens?"

"I do!"

"Do you accept the authority of the Church, the veracity of its doctrines, and the succession of the Maiden's Scion and his Exemplars?"

"I do!"

"Do you promise to resist temptation, to combat heresy, to break wicked vows and to avoid all sin, both of commission and omission?"

"I do!"

"And when you inevitably break that vow, do you promise to return to our mass, so that you may be absolved and have your vows affirmed once more?"

"I do!"

At this, Zissman turned around to retrieve a pitcher of water from the small table behind him. As he turned, he saw Strike, and his placid, superior expression gave way to indignation and concern. Perturbed, he fetched the pitcher and poured it over the flaming plate, dousing the incense and creating a large, smelly cloud.

"Then approach, my brothers and sisters, and receive these holy ashes, so like the followers of the Red Maiden, absolved by her painful intercession, you too may be saved from the fires, by the fires."

The priests scooped up the ashes from the still-smoking remnants of the plate, but Zissman broke off and went over to Strike. Grabbing him by the wrist, he dragged him into the waiting room, and gave him a harsh glare.

"I assume you have news of the Jaunerrha operation," Zissman said, his anger restrained, but clear. "Deliver it."

Strike swallowed uneasily, trying to think of how he would deliver the news. Zissman at once knew what was wrong.

"You failed," he said, his voice now a whisper. Strike, suddenly unable to speak, nodded.

"The assault did not go as planned," he said. "We have lost much."

"How much?" Zissman asked through gritted teeth. Strike swallowed again.

"Only a quarter of the fleet we sent survived," he said. "We split it in two to attack the fort and stop reinforcements at the same time. The half we sent to stop the reinforcements never returned."

Zissman abandoned his facade of civility and grabbed Strike by the shoulder. Zissman was not too much taller than Strike, but tall enough to look down on him. Strike felt his heart quicken.

"And the men?" he asked. "How many return?"

"Perhaps ten percent," Strike said, keeping his composure. Zissman's face contorted in anger, but he exhaled and rubbed his temples.

"A resounding failure," Zissman said. "Even if we killed Nitesco and the other two, that cost is too high. Do you know if we did?"

"I do not, Scion," Strike said, much calmer now. Zissman had acted with more restraint than he expected him to. "I was at sea. Faker and Austin were the ones who went on land."

Zissman groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then I will speak with them on why the assault failed. Splitting your navy was a stupid move, but if the attack on land fell to them, then so did responsibility for killing the commanders."

Strike clenched in unease, even more unsure how to explain that. Zissman sensed his unease and, slowly, he looked up at Strike.

"General," he said. "They did return, didn't they?"

Strike swallowed. His sweat was cool on his forehead. Zissman's face twitched with rage. Zissman already knew the answer, Strike knew. He just wanted to hear him say it. "Didn't they?" Zissman asked again.

"I'm afraid," Strike said, "that I was forced to retreat without them."

Zissman, in lieu of a response, throttled Strike against the wall.

"How did this happen?" Zissman asked. "This was supposed to be my triumph!" Strike stood firm and stared Zissman in the eye.

"Let go of me," he demanded.

"Dozens of riverships," Zissman growled. "Thousands of men. Two of my best commanders. Wasted!"

"Let go!" Strike said, more forcefully. Zissman's stare bored into his head.

"And you have the nerve to drag your incompetent carcass back here with nothing to say for yourself!" Zissman exclaimed. "Well, now's your chance. Make it good!"

"The plan wasn't mine!" Strike said. "It was Austin's. And Faker's. I will not accept punishment for a failure that wasn't mine! If I hadn't retreated, we would've lost everybody, and you would've had nobody to blame. Does that sound better to you?"

Zissman relented, letting Strike down from the wall. The general stumbled forward, coughing quietly, but Zissman merely stared straight ahead, livid.

"You are right," he said. "I should hold them accountable too. But you," he said, turning again toward Strike, "ought not to take that tone with me. Understand?"

"Of course, sir," Strike rasped. Zissman sighed and fixed his hair.

"You will speak of this to nobody," he said. "I will break the news. Until then, you stay in your quarters at Fort Bombus, and you talk to no one but me, Jannis, and Anti. Am I clear?"

"As crystal," Strike said. "Though some of the men with me may have already spread rumors."

"Then I will deal with them if the issue arises," Zissman said. He flattened out his now-wrinkled robes. "One more thing: do not ever interrupt a mass again. The Goddess does not look kindly on it, and more importantly, I don't look kindly on it."

"As you command," Strike said, his voice now cool and professional. He exchanged one last glance with Zissman before they both left the room.

* * *

**August 9, 9 ATC**

**Fort Bombus, Province of Hiven, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Jannis laid on the couch in the fort's office, staring at the grandfather clock. It was just about two minutes past midnight, he observed. And still, Zissman had not returned from Honig.

"Something bothering you?" Anti said. She was poring over expense reports by candlelight, and her furious scribbling was the only thing keeping Jannis awake. Jannis grunted and shifted upright.

"Zissman hasn't returned yet," he said. "Usually, he's back by ten-thirty, because he stays to do evening mass on Saturdays. But it's midnight now, and the only people who have come from Honig are Colonel, sorry, _General _Strike, and a wiry little Enablerish trooper."

Anti furrowed her brow, but her eyes did not move from the papers. "Intriguing," she said. "He's probably just doing work. Believe me, he's spending enough to heap plenty on me."

Jannis chuckled. "I'm sure. All the better to keep you in practice, right?"

Anti grinned tiredly, her gaze still unwavering. "I suppose. But if you saw how many digits I'm dealing with, you'd be a little less cavalier about it."

"Ah, go whine to Faker about it," Jannis jokingly said. "Or Austin," he added suggestively. Anti broke her concentration just long enough to frown at him before returning to her scribblings.

Finally, the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors announced that someone was coming. Into the dark room strode Zissman, hair unkempt, robes hastily tossed over one shoulder, and his face as grim as a gravedigger. Both Jannis and Anti tensed upon seeing Zissman without his trademark composure.

"What is wrong?" Jannis asked. Zissman waved him aside.

"Come with me, Jannis," he demanded. "We have to go see someone."

"What's going on?" Jannis asked.

"I'll tell you on the way," Zissman said. "Just come."

"Wait," Anti said, standing up. "Why can't you tell me? What's going on?"

"We need to know," Jannis said. Zissman groaned and whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Jannis.

"The assault failed!" he exclaimed. "The attack force was decimated. Three-fourths of the navy, almost all our men! And for nothing!"

"But what about Faker?" Anti asked. "And Austin? Are they…"

Zissman paused, finally calming down, and he took a deep breath. "They were left behind," he said. "We can only assume."

Anti's voice cracked, a sharp, high-pitched noise, and she covered her mouth. Even Jannis was taken aback. His expression softened.

"Both of them?" he asked. Anti sank into her chair and started crying softly. Jannis felt a heavy weight in his head, but he steeled himself. Zissman would not appreciate vulnerability.

"So it seems," Zissman said. "Which is why you and I must go. They know our intentions, and possibly our location, and now we are vulnerable. We must learn what their plans, if any, are."

Zissman sped out of the room, leaving Jannis behind with Anti. Jannis glanced at the door Zissman left from, and then to Anti. Anti sniffled and wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. Jannis felt guilty leaving his friend in such a state, but he obediently set out after Zissman.

Jannis and Zissman were silent as they paced across the fort grounds, down the dirt path that led to the jails. Their haste alarmed the guards, who parted to let them through. All the while, Jannis found himself preoccupied. He had not known Austin long, but she was earnest, at least, and valorous. And Faker, though he could be abrasive, was staunch and clever, and dare he say it, a good friend. Their loss stung, though it felt numb to him. He felt this was a long time coming, though he dare not say it.

As he and Zissman descended the stairwell into the underground cell block, which was reserved for the most dangerous prisoners, they heard a strange noise. As they got further down, they figured out what it was: it was singing.

Zissman's expression changed from one of anger to confusion as they walked out into the cell block. Jannis was just as perplexed when he saw what was happening: the entire cell block had broken out into song. The guards and Draco, who had been assigned as overseer, were frantically trying to shut the prisoners up, grabbing them one by one and delivering savage beatings, but it did nothing to stop the cruel melody:

"_Faker the Gilded was heard to have said_, _that his blood was the purest around! Had a quick wit for words, but a poor sport with swords, and he left all that blood on the ground!"_

The stanza was met with cruel laughter from the prisoners. The guards finally stopped and turned to see, to their dread, that Jannis and Zissman were there.

"_Faker the Greedy_," they continued, "_he fought for his gold! He fought until his dying breath!"_

"Draco!" Zissman shouted. "What is this?"

"_But he wasted his gains on brothels and plays, and his pockets were empty at death!"_

"I'm sorry, my liege," Draco said. "They haven't stopped singing since the Enablerish soldier came through here!"

"_They say he was beautiful, Faker the Fair: A strong jaw and long flowing locks!"_

"What did the soldier do?" Jannis demanded. "What did he tell you?"

"_But they mangled his face; he was such a disgrace, that he had to come home in a box!"_

Draco shook his head. "He said the attack on Arkos failed; that Lord Faker had died! And when they caught wind of that, the prisoners broke out into song! We tried everything, but they won't stop!"

"_He fought for Enabler: Faker the Patriot! For his nation, he'd persist!"_

"Who started this?" Zissman demanded. Draco pointed to the two cells at the end of the block.

"_But none at home cried when they heard he had died. Poor Faker; he will not be missed!"_

Zissman stormed to the end of the cell block, Jannis following close behind. Two voices sang higher than the rest of them: one was eager, but off-key, the other was deep and resonant. Jannis knew instantly who they were.

"_The Gilded, the Greedy, the Patriot Fair; by these titles he was known well!"_

Zissman finally came face-to-face with them, and Jannis could see he was unsurprised as well. Since they had been captured, Kazehh and Coronam had given their captors nothing but trouble.

"_But these names were all given while Faker was living,"_

Their tempo slowed for dramatic effect:

"_Who knows what he's called down in hell?"_

"Coronam," Zissman sneered. "Kazehh. Why am I not surprised?"

"Oh, Scion!" Kazehh said. "You should've told us you were coming. We would've had a dress rehearsal!"

"We hope you liked it," Coronam said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cell. "I regret that there is no musical accompaniment. We would've used our chains, but the guards took them after our practice sessions got too loud for them."

"I did not come here to be mocked by you, scum," Zissman said. "I came here for information. And if you're smart, you'll give it to me."

"I don't think you're in much of a position to make demands," Coronam said. "Very interesting report, your man gave us. Well, not purposefully. But believe me, when I heard that old Faker had kicked the bucket, it damn near shattered my heart."

"Not mine," Kazehh said. "I wrote that song after I got captured. I've been waiting to sing it ever since. And I think the practice has done me some good."

"Enough!" Zissman said. "I have no patience for you buffoonery. Guards, beat Kazehh. I would like to talk to Coronam without his interruption."

The guards complied. Two of them opened the cell and held Kazehh down while Draco mounted and beat him. Kazehh provided no resistance. It gave Jannis little joy.

"Now," Zissman said. "As I was saying. I know, Coronam, that you are accustomed to some manner of decency, being royalty. I also know that you are very sentimental when it comes to your allies. I can transfer you to house arrest, along with this insipid mongrel you call a friend." Kazehh grunted in offense, but Draco continued beating him.

Jannis could see that Coronam already knew what the question would be, and that he already knew how he would answer. He knew better than to interrupt Zissman, though.

"And what do you ask of me?" Coronam said. Jannis hated that he looked so smug. How could he act so superior, even though he lived in squalor? He was the epitome of an arrogant noble.

"I ask only for knowledge in return," Zissman said. "I want to know what the League's endgame is. I know Nitesco and Zealander had contingencies. I know they prepared against the Church. I want to know what it was! What were their plans?"

Jannis expected some contemptuous remark from Coronam, but instead, he merely smiled. "I really can't recall," Coronam said. "I think your henchman—Draco, is it?—might've beaten it out of me."

Finally, Draco ceased beating Kazehh, and guards exited his cell. As they shut the door behind him, Kazehh spit up blood and extended a hand toward Coronam. "Don't," he rasped. "Don't… give them… the satisfaction!"

"Shut up, mongrel!" Zissman shouted. "Unless you'd like to go through that again!" Kazehh, wisely, did not respond.

"Now," Zissman said, returning his attention to Coronam, "I will ask again: what are the League's plans? This is your last chance to stop that—" he punctuated his statement by pointing at a barely-breathing Kazehh— "from happening."

Coronam just shook his head. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell," he said. "But if you wanted me to know, you should've let me go when you first attacked me in Crosshares. Isn't that right, Jannis?"

Jannis grimaced. "You may have been a king," he retorted, "but now you're just a prison rat. If you want any of what you had back, you'll take the offer."

"We're wasting our time," Zissman interjected. "But know this, Coronam. Defy me, and you defy the Goddess."

"Then let her strike me down," Coronam said, raising his hands to the ceiling. "Goddess? Are you there? You have your chance!"

Kazehh, despite his condition began gurgling in laughter, and soon the rest of the cell block, which had been intimidated into silence, burst into laughter too. Zissman, livid, turned to Draco and jabbed a finger at him.

"I will not tolerate this arrogance from prison scum!" he announced. "Tomorrow morning, I want everybody but Coronam and Kazehh transported to the nearest quarry. It will only be you and these two down here, am I understood?"

"All of them?" Draco asked. Jannis was surprised; it was unusual for Draco to question Zissman. "That seems like a waste, sir. Many of these men have good information, and are too weak to last at—"

"Perhaps I need to craft you a new helmet," Zissman said. "It seems to have muffled your hearing, because I thought I was very clear."

Draco shifted uneasily, but he nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll begin gathering an escort."

"I also want these two lashed publicly," Zissman said. "Every morning, once for every insult they pay you. And I want the soldier who told these fools of Faker's death sent far away from here!"

"We can deal with this in the morning," Jannis said. "Please. You need rest."

Zissman sighed and turned toward the exit. "I suppose you are right. But we need to deal with these problems. And I will not tolerate insolence from these beasts." He waved at Draco. "You have your orders. I expect them to be carried out by this morning. This must change."

"Yes, Scion," Draco said, but he sounded uneasy. As Zissman and Jannis turned to leave, Coronam began to cackle again.

"Yes, Zissman," he crooned. "Rest now, for my friends will give you hell later!" A resounding cry of support came from the prisoners, though they were already resigned to their fate. Zissman ignored them.

As they walked up the stairs and into the courtyard, Jannis knew that Zissman was right. Things had to change. And if they didn't soon, Jannis thought, then he might have to create change himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**August 16, 9 ATC**

_**Fleetfoot, **_**Hiven River, Province of Hiven, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

The crisp morning wind fluttered the sails of the small rivership, pushing it in the right direction, and the helmsman turned to avoid another sharp rock. The Hiven River was notoriously shallow in some areas, and Austin could not afford to run aground. There was too much riding on her plan for delays.

Austin felt a tap on her shoulder, and it startled her. She turned to see Nitesco and Opifexa fully clothed in Church knight's armor, glistening from head to toe. Nitesco's prosthetic had been fully covered in chain mail, so convincing that Austin wouldn't know it was there if she didn't know to look. The rest of the crew dallied about, also in Enabler or Church armor, but only Nitesco and Opifexa wore helmets.

"I hate this damned thing," Opifexa said. Her breathing sounded heavy. "I can't breathe in it."

"Well, if you like breathing at all," Nitesco said, "you'll keep it on. If we're recognized, it all goes to shit."

"So we've been over," Austin said. She chewed her nails as the helmsman swooped around another tight bend. They must be getting close to Honig. "You understand your roles?"

"Yes," Nitesco and Opifexa responded. Austin nodded.

"Good. Let me do the talking. If someone tries to talk with you, just ignore them. Church soldiers have something of a reputation for stoicism. They'll leave you alone."

Nitesco and Opifexa nodded, but Austin could tell they were uneasy. Not that she blamed them, of course; she had just escaped the Church's grasp, and now she would descend back into it. As long as her story held up, all would go well. As long as the story held…

The ship turned around one last sharp bend, and the towers of Honig came into sight. "Town in sight!" the helmsman bellowed. Austin nodded to Nitesco and Opifexa.

"By this time tomorrow," Austin said, "we'll have won the war. Excited?"

"Terrified," Opifexa said, but with a hint of readiness that reassured Austin. Nitesco said nothing, but nodded slowly as the ship slid into port.

Austin stood at attention as two Church soldiers ambled down the docks, giving the ship a once-over before stopping to look at Austin. One of them clearly recognized her, his face going wide with surprise before muttering something to his friend and running off. The other one, his face unreadable, paced over to the edge of the boat.

"Commander Austin?" he asked. Austin nodded.

"That's me," she remarked. "How can I help you?"

"You can help me," the man said, "by staying right here. My friend is fetching the commander. Apparently, your arrival will turn a few heads."

"You mean the Church has never had someone come back from the dead?" Austin asked.

The soldier scowled, his first show of emotion. "No, we have not," said the soldier. "And anyways, I didn't know you were supposed to be dead until about a minute ago."

Austin raised an eyebrow. If the soldiery didn't know information like that, then it would follow that Zissman was keeping that information from them. And if Zissman was restricting information, then the Church would likely be in more dire straits than Austin originally thought. She assessed this new information, but just then, the runner returned with his commander. Austin looked up and was surprised to see that their commander was none other than Anti.

"Austin?" Anti asked. She covered her mouth and exhaled, clearly overwhelmed. "You're alive," she finally sputtered with a mix of surprise and happiness. She wrung her hands, unsure of what to do with them, but looked on Austin with a relieved smile. Behind Austin, Nitesco chuckled softly.

"It took me a while," Austin said, "but I made it. I'm sure Zissman and Jannis will be delighted to hear that too."

"I'm sure they will," Anti said. She drummed her fingers ceaselessly on the side of her leg. "Come on, come on. We must report to them directly. They're lodging at Fort Bombus, not too far away."

"May I bring my men as well?" Austin asked. She gestured at the crew of the boat. Opifexa and Nitesco shifted uneasily beneath their helmets. "They've saved my life on more than one occasion. It would be inappropriate for me to meet Zissman without them."

Austin expected some sort of questioning or resistance from Anti, but she merely shrugged. "If it pleases you," Anti said. "But let's waste no more time. Honig is a quaint little town, but the fort is a much nicer place to stay."

Austin, along with her men, followed Anti off the docks as the Church dockhands began inspecting the boat. As they walked through the city, Anti kept glancing at Austin.

"You want to know how I escaped?" Austin asked. Anti shrugged.

"I don't doubt your resourcefulness," Anti said. "Likely you and your men escaped Nitesco's flanks and ran around the countryside before a boat picked you up. Is that right?"

"Close," Austin said. "We hijacked a League boat that stopped offshore to fish. We lost a few men, but we're here now. Does that answer your question?"

"That wasn't my question, actually." Anti looked at the ground. "I was just wondering if it's possible Faker got out too."

Austin sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said. "The ones with me climbed out through a breach in the wall, but Faker was… distracted by Nitesco. He didn't see it coming."

Anti sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I was afraid of that. At least he died fighting."

"Indeed," Austin muttered. She cast a backwards glance at Nitesco. She wished she could hear what he had to say about it, but of course he stayed quiet.

Finally, the party arrived at the town square, where three carriages were waiting for them. Anti counted heads and clapped her hands.

"Ah, good," she said. "Including me, we've got twelve people; four to a carriage. Austin, why don't you bring your guardsmen and ride with me? The rest of them can split up and ride separately."

Austin beckoned for her men to disperse before following Anti to her carriage. Anti graciously opened the door for them. Opifexa and Nitesco clambered in first, taking the two rear seats, while Austin shuffled into the seat behind the driver. Anti joined them last, shutting the door behind her and taking the seat next to Austin.

They sat in silence for a little bit as the carriage lurched forward and began moving out of the city. The four of them remained in a somewhat uncomfortable silence until they left Honig. Once in the countryside, Anti began to make small talk.

"So," Anti said. "I know Austin, but I don't know either of you. What are your names?"

"Uh," Nitesco said. "I'm Nicholas."

"Nicholas," Anti said. She extended her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And you as well," Nitesco said. He shook her hand uneasily.

"Octavia," Opifexa said. Anti shook her hand as well.

"Well," Anti said, "I suppose I have you two to thank for keeping Austin alive all this time?"

"They were indispensable," Austin interjected. "Nicholas singlehandedly saved my life several times during the battle. I met Octavia later, in the countryside, but the men she had with her gave us the numbers we needed to survive."

Anti smiled warmly at them. "Then you have my gratitude as well. Perhaps I can arrange some sort of award once we settle in."

"Perhaps," Nitesco said. Anti nodded at him and looked down. She squinted.

"Your leg," she said. Austin stiffened. Of all the people to be in close quarters with, the most perceptive woman she had ever known was not a great choice in the middle of an infiltration. Opifexa tensed and looked down at Nitesco's leg. Nitesco remained still.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. Anti pointed at the chainmail.

"The chainmail looks a little stiff," she said. "Like it rusted in a weird position."

"It probably got wet while we were on the boat," Opifexa interjected. "Nicholas, you must get that fixed!"

"Oh, don't worry about it," Anti said, waving her away. "I can pay for that."

"Very gracious," Austin said. Anti smiled at her and returned to gazing out the window. Nitesco breathed a sigh of relief.

They sat in silence for the rest of the trip, Anti gazing out the window, lost in thought, while Austin resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. After several silent minutes, they reached the gates of Fort Bombus.

"Who goes there?" A guard outside the carriage asked. Anti groaned and opened the door.

"I'll be right back," she announced, and she shut the door behind her. Opifexa breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good god," she muttered. "This is terrifying."

"As long as we stay quiet, we'll be fine," Nitesco said. "With the distraction I'm going to make, there's nobody who will bother to stick around the prisons. You'll be home free before you know it."

"If you get caught, Nitesco," Austin said. "It's over."

"You don't need to remind me," he said. His voice sounded tense.

"No, that's…" Austin sighed. "I'm just saying… be careful. You too, Opifexa."

At that moment, Anti clambered back into the carriage and huffed. "Stupid guards," she said. "Always so pushy. But I know Zissman will be glad to see you."

"I'm sure he will," Austin said. The carriage lurched forward and into Fort Bombus' courtyard.

The interior of Fort Bombus was much more spacious than Austin had expected. There were many supplementary buildings built around its high walls, mostly storehouses or barracks, but the command center, which stood in the middle, was unexpectedly large. All around it were offices and living quarters for the knights and officers, and in the middle of that stood a three-story tower, spacious and commanding, looking out over the rest of the fort. Banners blazoned with Church symbols hung from its balconies. Austin knew it wouldn't be hard to find Zissman there.

"We're here," Anti announced. She hopped out of the carriage, and the rest of them followed her out. Austin took a moment to observe her surroundings. She couldn't see a prison anywhere, but she spotted a large building, helpfully labeled "Armory," on the side of the fort facing where the main attack would come from. She looked to Nitesco, who was staring in the same direction. He saw it too. Anti crossed her arms and waited for the other two carriages to arrive. Once they pulled into the yard and their soldiers came out, she gathered them all together.

Once all the soldiers had gathered behind Austin, Anti smiled and turned toward the command building. "Follow me," she said, "but be on your best behavior. Zissman hasn't been in a pleasant mood lately."

"I wonder why," Nitesco muttered. Opifexa suppressed a chuckle.

Anti led them into the main meeting room of the command center. The room was surprisingly spacious, and a large council table, complete with a massive map of the Subreddit, sat in the middle. Aside from the guards stationed along the edges of the room, the only people in there were Jannis and Zissman, who were arguing over the map.

"We need to wipe them out before we can move on," Jannis said. "If we leave an enemy-occupied region behind us, then they can attack us from behind, harass our messengers and supply lines… no, moving on from this region when there's still work to do is out of the question."

"I trust your military sensibilities, Jannis," Zissman said, "but this is a gamble we must take! If we succeed, we can deal a crippling blow to the loyalists!" He grumbled and turned to see who had arrived. "Anti," he said, and then his eyes went wide. "Austin?" he asked. Jannis tore his eyes away from the map to look up, and Austin saw his face alight with surprise.

"I suppose I should be flattered," Austin said, putting on the wit the Church expected from her. Zissman quickly regained his composure and put a hand to his chin.

"Perhaps," Zissman said. "It's not every day someone returns from the dead."

"So one of your knights told me," Austin said, "though, in my defense, I never actually died."

"And how did that happen?" Jannis asked. His eyes were narrow with curiosity, or perhaps suspicion. Not that it would matter.

"Nitesco flanked our assault force," Austin said, "but I managed to escape and meet up with a few other survivors. We lost a few to patrols and a good amount when we hijacked a schooner, but we survived."

"Not to sound dismissive," Zissman said, "but is there a chance Faker survived as well?"

Austin shook her head. "I saw him die. There was nothing I could do."

Jannis grumbled, but Zissman merely nodded. "Well," Zissman said, "even if we can't have Faker back, losing one commander is still better than losing two."

Behind her, Austin heard Anti huff, but she said nothing.

"I have to say," Austin said, "you're being much more cavalier about my return than I expected."

"Neither of us doubt your skill," Jannis said. "And we aren't in much of a position to question blessings that fall in our laps."

"We need to consolidate our holdings," Zissman said. "And with your knowledge of the Subreddit, we can do that again."

"But not right away," Jannis interjected. "Now, you need rest. You men," he said, turning to the soldiers Austin brought with her, "deserve some too. You can look around the fort for a little bit, get acquainted with the men. Lunch is at noon."

The men sensed an opportunity to leave and began filing out. Nitesco gave Austin a small nod before exiting.

"Where's Strike?" Austin asked. "Was he the one who told you I was dead?"

"He's likely out in the yard, drilling his men," Zissman said. "I will admit, he did clarify that he never saw you or Faker die. But that doesn't matter now." He turned to Jannis. "Jannis, please go fetch Strike. We have much to discuss. Austin, Anti will show you to your quarters."

Anti beckoned for Austin to follow and led her into the command complex's hallways. Anti kept ruffling her collar, uneasy. Austin was surprised she would let herself be so easily read.

"It's Zissman, isn't it?" Austin asked. Anti gave her a sideways look, then noticed how tightly she was grabbing her collar. She sighed.

"The stress of it all it taking its toll on him," Anti said, but she sounded unconvinced. "We've overextended ourselves. Taken too much, too quickly. Our vassal lords are shifty at best, keeping more soldiers at home than they send to the fronts. And the Church, hard as it is to believe, is running out of soldiers."

"Where do they come from?" Austin asked. "The Church, I mean?"

Anti shrugged. "Somewhere far to the north, beyond the northern mountains. The knights, at least, are from there, but they've been dying at… unprecedented rates. We can't recoup them."

"Says who?" Austin asked. "I've seen plenty of Church converts, all zealots. Especially Draco." She hissed his name, but Anti pretended not to notice.

"Draco…" she said. "He makes me uneasy."

"That goes double for me," Austin said. "Speaking of, where is he? I haven't seen him yet."

"Nor have I," Anti said, rubbing her temples. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since yesterday. Odd."

Anti stopped in front of an open doorway, behind which was a spacious, if bare room. There was a table, a bed, and several empty cabinets and bookshelves. Anti sighed and rocked back and forth on her heels.

"Here it is," Anti announced. "I know it's bare. I can lend you a few books, if you wish."

"It's fine as it is," Austin said. "The way Zissman is talking, I may not have the time to properly decorate."

"Still," Anti said, "it's good to have you back." She lingered for a few seconds, as if she wanted to say something more, but merely nodded and walked off. Anti almost made Austin feel guilty. Almost.

She shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed. Her sword felt heavy in its sheath, but Austin knew exactly how this had to end.

Austin put a hand to the glass and looked out the window. She wasn't on the right side of the complex to see the armory or the prison, but she figured she would know when things were about to go down.

"Godspeed, Nitesco," she muttered, and she waited.

* * *

Nitesco and his four soldiers walked through the courtyard toward the armory, hearts racing. Nitesco considered himself lucky enough to have a helmet to hide his fear. The soldiers with him kept their composure, but he could tell they were panicked. Not that he blamed them.

The five of them filed into the armory, trying to act nonchalant. Nitesco didn't know exactly how to do that, but he hoped it was working.

"Good day sir!" The door guard said. "Seeing what's in the armory?"

Fuck.

"Just perusing," Nitesco said, his voice deepening to throw the soldier off. "I'd like to see what's here." Before the soldier had an opportunity to continue the conversation, he and his men quickly filed into the armory.

They found the building larger than expected, but just as mazelike as the command center. Nitesco growled.

"Okay." he whispered. "Liz, Fred, you go left. Ivan, you come with me. Henry, stay here and try to stop anyone from coming in." The soldiers nodded and left without another word to do their tasks.

Nitesco and Ivan paced around the right wing of the armory, looking for the gunpowder storage, but every room they checked seemed to have only shields, weapons or armor in them. Ivan huffed as he checked yet another worthless room.

"Good god," Ivan muttered. "What kind of contractor did the Church hire for this?"

"A smart one, by the looks of it," Nitesco said. They turned around a corner at the end of a hallway, expecting to find more rooms to inspect, but instead they found a long, well-lit room with more barrels of gunpowder and cannonballs than Nitesco had ever seen in one place. There was a door at the opposite end of the room, and two men taking inventory.

One of the men looked up at Nitesco and Ivan with surprise. "Sir," he said. "We're inspecting. Please leave."

"We're inspecting too," Nitesco said. "Ivan and I just came to see how many barrels there were in here. But by the looks of it," he said with a sinister note, "there are more than enough."

"What is that suppos—" the soldier began, but Ivan swung his battle hammer into the man's skull, killing him instantly. His partner dropped his paper and ran for the opposite door.

"You killed him!" he yelled. He was so busy looking back at Nitesco and Ivan he didn't see the other disguised soldiers round the corner. One of them rammed her spear into the man's throat as he turned around to face them, and the other one gave a backwards glance down the hall to see if anyone heard.

"Oh boy," Ivan said with inappropriate eagerness. "The first casualties."

"They won't be the last," Nitesco said gravely. "Liz, Fred, start making fuses. Ivan, grab the bodies and get them in a corner."

The soldiers obeyed. Liz and Fred cut open a smaller barrel of gunpowder and let the powder drain out across the floor before setting it next to the much larger barrels. Ivan stuffed the two inspectors in a corner. Nitesco pulled a torch off the wall and looked down on the fuse.

"Ready, boys?" he asked. The three of them nodded. Nitesco dropped the torch on the fuse, and they bolted.

The team sprinted through the armory as fast as possible, praying that they had set a long enough fuse. They found their last soldier at the entrance, still trying to talk a group of Church soldiers out of going in, and Nitesco grabbed his arm as he ran past.

"What's all this about?" An Enablerish soldier wondered aloud. Nitesco ignored him, and once certain his was far enough away from the armory, he turned around to watch it.

A second later, the Enablerish soldier got his answer, as the armory, the soldiers in it, and the wall behind it erupted in a massive blast. Nitesco waved the smoke and dust away from his eyes, which was protected by his helmet, but he took it off anyway to see the full scope of the destruction. The wall had crumbled, leaving an appropriately wide gap for their main force to pry through, and off in the distance, he saw Gwydion's forces massing on the hills. As soon as they saw the explosion, they began charging down the hill.

"Holy shit," Ivan said. He turned to Nitesco. "Now what do we do?"

"I'd ditch the Church uniforms before joining our men," Nitesco said. "But it's up to you." He turned toward the command complex. Zissman was surely still inside.

"I've got a job of my own to finish."

* * *

Jannis walked calmly through the courtyard, looking for Strike. No doubt he was not in the designated drilling area. Likely, he had taken some patch right in the middle of the walkways, so everyone could see how well his men were trained. Not that he was wrong, of course; Jannis had always thought about how the conscripts would be better off if they had Arkosian discipline, but he wasn't about to give the reins to Strike for that.

Sure enough, Strike was drilling his men in the middle of the fort, performing drills of martial arts. Chop, punch, punch, jab, choke. Strike broke off from the practice when he saw Jannis, gesturing for his sergeant to take his place and resume the drill.

"Jannis," Strike said, somewhat irked to be interrupted. "What can I do for you?"

"Zissman wants to speak with you," Jannis said. "We're changing our strategy. Something new has come up."

"Don't keep me in suspense," Strike said. Jannis frowned.

"Very well. Austin is alive." Strike's eyes went wide.

"Alive?" he said. "Are you certain?"

"Well, the woman I met who talked like her and walked like her and knew things she knew could've been an imposter," Jannis said. "Or a really good guesser."

Strike was still too shocked to appreciate Jannis's humor. "But I thought she died," Strike said. "With Faker, at Arkos."

"Yes, you did," Jannis said. "And to your credit, Faker is really dead. But Austin isn't. And this could be extremely—"

A powerful explosion interrupted them. Jannis and Strike quickly abandoned the drilling group to go see where it had come from, and were horrified to see there was now a massive gap in the wall. Worse still, a massive army had amassed outside the walls, and was now bearing down on them at full force. Jannis grit his teeth and turned to Strike.

"Ride for Honig!" he commanded. "Rally the men there! With the garrison we have now, we can hold off the attack for a while, but not indefinitely. Get reinforcements!"

Strike said nothing, but ran for the stables to get a horse. Jannis turned to the breach and began to rally the men.

* * *

As soon as Austin heard the blast, she was ready. She had an idea of where Zissman would've ended up: almost certainly he was in the tower. She ran through the labyrinthine halls of the complex, hoping she could find it in time.

She found the stairwell much more quickly than she anticipated. Austin ran up the stairs, her heart racing, her sword dangling at her side. She was so close, so close to finishing it all.

When she arrived at the landing, she was surprised to see that the door to the command room was closed, and two guards were stationed outside of it. They looked at her quizzically as she stopped to catch her breath.

"Uh, ma'am," the one on the right said. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"I have orders from the courtyard," she said. "Break off, go to the battle. I must speak with the Scion." When the soldiers did not move, she clenched her fist.

"I gave you an order, soldiers!" Austin shouted. "We need all forces on the battlefield. Report to your commanding officer and let me report to the Scion!"

"We already have our orders, ma'am," the guard on the left replied. "We're to stand guard and hold off anyone who tries to enter, aside from Jannis himself."

"The situation has changed," Austin said with the most menacing glare she could muster. "Let me in. Now."

"We can't do that, Commander," said the one on the right. "The Scion—"

Austin drew her sword with lightning speed, slashing it across the guard's neck in the middle of his sentence. He fell, bleeding heavily from his fresh wound.

"Marvin!" the other guard cried. He only had time to put his hand on his hilt before Austin delivered a thrust through his neck in turn. As she withdrew her blade, he dropped into a heap on the floor. Austin shook her head.

"Left me no choice," she said to the men who could no longer hear her. Alone, she looked at the door before her. Beyond this thick piece of metal was her objective. The end of a long, hard journey. The final moments of Zissman. She pressed her free hand against the door and pushed into the room.

The command room was well-lit, with massive windows behind Zissman's throne, which sat at the far end of the room. Austin saw Zissman rise from his seat as soon as she entered. There was a small draft, causing his scarlet robes to wave gently with the breeze. He focused on Austin with a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. Her mind got to work calculating another lie to feed him, one that would work long enough to cover the path of her blade through his heart.

"Austin," Zissman said. "You've killed my guards."

Austin clenched her open hand into a fist. "They were," she hesitated, "dead when I got here?"

Zissman drew his sword.

"Yeah," Austin said. "Didn't think you'd believe that one." She lifted her sword and pointed it at Zissman. "Then I'll be frank. I'm here to kill you."

"I assumed as much. You disappear after your plan goes disastrously wrong, only to return in the midst of an enemy infiltration. It was too much of a coincidence. I only have one question, before I kill you."

"I'll give you an answer," Austin said. "I suppose I owe you that much."

"Why?"

Austin glared. "Is this a trick question?"

"I could have given you anything you wanted. Fortune, fame, security. You could have been a hero of the Church. Instead, you betrayed me, and returned to the scum you once called allies. I showed you mercy, and you betrayed me. Why?"

She shook her head. "I didn't betray you; I deceived you. My loyalty never wavered. I was always fighting for the League."

Zissman shook his head. "All of this, for those curs? I refuse to believe that. This is your own power move. You want to take control of the Subreddit. That's been your scheme from the very beginning, since the Diet, hasn't it?" He raised his voice. "Hasn't it?!"

Austin walked to the side, keeping her eyes trained on Zissman. At the same time, Zissman walked in an arc the other way, keeping the same space between them. They each moved around the room locked in an unrelenting stare-down.

"If I had wanted power, I would have joined Inferno," Austin said. "There are far more important things in this world. My home. My friends. My history. My family. Compared to all that, a title and command are worth nothing. I suppose you wouldn't understand."

Zissman scoffed. "What part of that platitude do you think I could not understand?"

Austin said, "You don't know what it's like to have people who care about you."

Zissman stopped walking. Austin stopped in response. The air turned ice cold. Zissman, standing near a wall, had his face covered in shadow.

"What nonsense," he snarled. "You know nothing! You talk of family? My family is divine! I have a mother whose wisdom is infinite! A patroness whose strength is unmatched! My family is the Goddess who lights my way forward!" He took a step forward. "And I am her will incarnate!"

Austin said, "You're delusional."

Zissman laughed. His howling laughter echoed off the walls. "Child! You know nothing. Tonight, I will teach you. I will show you the error of your ways. The folly of your defiance. And before you die, you will beg for forgiveness."

"We'll see about that."

Zissman took a step forward. Then another. Then he charged, and the fight began.

* * *

Opifexa sprinted across the yard with her men, trying to find the prison in the midst of the chaos. Nitesco's distraction had worked well; _too_ well. She could barely keep track of the four men she brought with her, let alone find anything in the fray.

They passed another group of soldiers going to the defensive line. Hopefully nobody noticed they were running the wrong way.

"Sir!" One of her men cried out and pointed. "Is that the prison?"

He was pointing at a small, square brick building at the edge of the fort. There were a few windows, each one with bars over it.

"That's it!" Opifexa cried. "Let's go!" She felt a rush of adrenaline. If this is what it's like to lead a battle, she thought, then perhaps being a commander would be worth it after all.

The five of them set out to the prison, ignoring the soldiers that crossed their path. "This will be easy," one of the soldiers behind her said. "We'll be in and out in twenty minutes."

"Don't get your hopes up, James," one of them chided. "Carelessness kills."

"Are you my mother?" James shot back. Opifexa ignored them. They were at the prison doors.

Inside, they found two regular prison guards and the warden arguing with a Church knight. No one noticed them come in.

"You must join the battle!" the knight commanded. "We need all hands on deck!"

"Surely Zissman can spare three swords to look after his two most important prisoners," the warden responded. One of the prison guards noticed Opifexa and tugged on the warden's shirt. The knight didn't notice and continued berating him.

"They're in prison. Who's going to—" The knight followed the warden's gaze to Opifexa and her men. He cocked his head.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Go to the wall!"

"We came to ensure all men are heading to battle," Opifexa said. The warden glanced over the five of them and scoffed.

"All five of you?" he asked. "I don't think so. I don't recognize any of you either." He turned to the knight. "I think we have some—"

One of Opifexa's men leaped on the warden, bringing his axe down on the man's bald head. It split clean open, and the warden fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. The knight and the guardsmen readied themselves.

"To arms!" the knight cried. Three of Opifexa's men broke off to swarm the guards, leaving her and one other to face the knight.

Opifexa struck first, a jab with her longsword that glanced the knight's shoulder. Her aim was shaky, unbalanced by fear, and the knight backhanded her in response.

"Stupid bitch," he muttered. The other soldier threw himself at the knight, but he was repelled. Opifexa leaped up to swing at the knight again, this time landing a solid hit on his thigh. The knight swiveled to deflect her follow-up, swinging in a broad arc and knocking her sword away before stabbing at Opifexa's helper. The knight plunged his sword into the man's shoulder before tearing it away, releasing a spray of blood that drenched him and Opifexa. He crumpled to the ground.

Opifexa charged the knight again, but was hit hard in the chest with the hilt of his sword. The knight swung upwards, hoping to catch her sword arm, but she stumbled backwards just in time to escape with only a slice on the cheek.

"Try it again, bitch!" The knight said. He was breathing heavily, having underestimated his opponent's stamina, so Opifexa obliged.

This time, he could not block it. Opifexa ducked under his swing, giving him a slice to the hip as she whirled around for a counterattack. She riposted into his shoulder blade before he could turn around, dragging the point across his back and through his upper arm, causing him to scream and drop his blade as he tumbled forward.

She moved in to finish him off, but he rocketed up and grabbed her by the throat, pressing her to the ground. With one hand on her throat, he grabbed her sword arm with his free hand and wrenched her wrist. Opifexa felt her throat close, and she desperately struck at his face, trying to turn him off. Suddenly, a spear erupted from the man's right eye, causing the knight to scream before went completely limp. Opifexa wriggled out from under his corpse, covered in blood, and saw that one of her men had saved her.

"Holy shit," she wheezed. She gasped for breath as she tried to stand. "Holy shit."

"You good?" one of the men asked her. She waved him off.

"Right as rain," she said, "but I've never been in a fight like that before. Are you alright?"

The man pointed to the bodies on the floor. "James is dead. William," he gestured to the man who fought with Opifexa, "is injured. But we did manage to keep one of these bastards alive." He pointed to one of the guardsmen, bloodied and slumped against the wall. The guardsman panicked and sat up straighter.

"Wait!" he cried. "Please don't hurt me! I'm a conscript!"

"Where are the prisoners?" Opifexa asked. She brushed her sword on the conscript's cheek, not enough to draw blood, but it was more than enough to panic him. He started tearing up.

"The third floor down!" he blubbered. "The lowest one!"

"Are there any other guards?" one of her men asked. The conscript shook his head.

"There shouldn't be," he said. "We're all that were assigned here full-time. There'll be nobody down there, and the keys are on the warden. But that's all I know! Please let me live!"

"What do we do with him?" One of the men asked. Opifexa frowned. Murdering prisoners of war wasn't becoming of her, but they couldn't very well let him go.

"Toss me the keys," she ordered her men. One of the grabbed the key ring off the warden's body and tossed it to Opifexa. She grabbed the guard by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet before opening an unlocked cell.

"You're putting me in there?" the conscript asked.

"Would you rather we kill you?" Opifexa retorted. The conscript sighed and staggered into the open cell.

"Stay up here," she told her men. "Keep watch. Get the bodies out of sight, if you can. I'm going to go get Coronam and Kazehh."

The men obeyed, dragging the bodies into the open cell as Opifexa descended the stairs. One floor down, two floors down. Her heart raced.

Finally, she arrived at the bottom of the stairs. The cell block was small, and moist. Most of the cell doors were wide open, waiting for inhabitants that would never arrive. But down at the end of the hallway, she heard talking.

"Sounds like there's someone here," one of them said. A medium-high voice. Kazehh, probably.

"Who's there?" the other one asked. "A liberator, or are you hiding from the fight?" His voice was dry and weak, but still regal. Coronam. It had to be.

"Liberator, huh?" Opifexa said. She heard Coronam gasp upon hearing her voice, and she swelled with pride. She got just close enough to see the shock and happiness on Coronam's face, and she smiled. "How flattering."

"Opifexa," Coronam whispered. He was a mess: his hair and beard were long and messy, his face was caked with filth and still cut and bruised from countless beatings. His nose was clearly broken, likely recently. Kazehh was no better off, but he had far more energy.

"Well I'll be damned!" he cheered, his voice raspy. "Opifexa, right?"

"That's right," Coronam said. He slouched against the bars of his cell, and he started laughing with joy. "I'm so proud," he said. "You came for us."

"I did," she whispered. "I did." She grabbed his hand through the bars and smiled. After they sat there for a few seconds, Kazehh sighed.

"Look," he said. "I get this is a nice moment and all, but we can celebrate once we're outside the prison. Can you unlock us?"

"Sure, sure." Opifexa produced the key ring before realizing that a dozen keys hung on it. "Um, which one unlocks these cells?"

"The iron one," Coronam said. His eyes narrowed. "At least, I think so."

"I'm pretty sure it's the silver one," Kazehh interjected. Opifexa sighed and handed the keys to Coronam.

"You can figure it out," she said. "It's more poetic if you set yourself free." Coronam rolled his eyes, but he smiled and took the key ring. Just then, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs alerted them to an intruder's approach.

"Who's there?" Opifexa asked. The footsteps were slow, heavy. Ominous. Coronam began trying keys much more quickly. Kazehh tightened his grip on the cell bars. Opifexa drew her sword.

"John?" she asked, slowly creeping toward the stairs. "Abe?" No response. She put both hands on the sword and readied a combat stance. "Tell me who you are, or I'll kill you!"

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that," a voice finally responded. "But you're welcome to try." It was deep, but muffled. Finally, the man came around the corner, scimitar drawn, and splattered with blood.

Draco.

* * *

When the walls of Fort Bombus had erupted, the whole landscape rumbled with the explosion. The Church soldiers patrolling around the river bank turned to see a plume of smoke billowing from their fort, and they were terrified. They broke from their patrols, massing together and going to march back to the fort.

That was when Gwydion struck.

Instead of docking in a friendly city, as was originally planned, he anchored the transports at the riverbank and landed his soldiers there. They overtook the patchwork forces easily, then sent out a sortie to harass the defenders while he convened with Vulpix and Contramundi.

Gwydion found Vulpix standing in the shade of a tree, watching as their men streamed forward, charging down at the already-regrouped defenders.

"They've already rallied a defense," Vulpix observed. He stroked his beard. "The surprise didn't work nearly as well as I thought it would."

"We can still press our advantages," Gwydion said. He drummed his fingers on the tree next to him. "Where is Contramundi?"

"Right behind you," Contramundi said. He grinned and drew his sword. "What's the plan?"

"The plan," Gwydion said, "is simple. You take the right flank and block off the road to Honig, so they can't escape. I take the left flank and cut off a potential retreat. Vulpix, as the center, strikes the defenders head-on. They haven't had time to entrench. They shouldn't be too hard to handle."

"Don't get cocky," Vulpix chided. "If you get sloppy, your toys won't save you."

"I understand that," Gwydion said. He patted his blunderbuss, which was looped around his back. "The same goes for you too. And you, Contramundi."

"Cocky?" Contramundi asked. "Me?"

"Well," Vulpix said. "I've said my piece. You boys ready?"

"Always," Gwydion said.

"As I'll ever be," Contramundi said. He walked away to join the flank, leaving Gwydion and Vulpix alone.

"Well, would you look at this?" Vulpix said. He waved for a page to bring them two horses. "Gwydion and Vulpix, riding into battle together. Who would've thought?"

"We've fought together before," Gwydion said. "We've fought each other before, too."

"Ah, yes," Vulpix said. "Ten years ago I could've seen myself fighting with you. It seems I was right. Maybe not as I thought I would be, but right all along."

"I thought wordplay was Austin's thing," Gwydion said. Vulpix chuckled and shrugged.

"Ah, how times have changed," he said. The page returned with two healthy war horses, fully armored for battle. Vulpix turned to Gwydion. "Last one through the breach buys drinks."

"You're on!" Gwydion said, finally cracking a smile. They both climbed onto their steeds and rode off into the battle.

Gwydion caught up with his advancing forces halfway across the field, taking his place at the front of the charge. The Church's defenses were hastily constructed, but looked sound: a shield wall had already been formed about thirty meters from the breach, and the garrison streamed out into the breach, carrying wood and stone, erecting more makeshift barricades. As Gwydion's force edged closer, a Church sortie struck out to meet them, and suddenly they were in the fray.

Gwydion's horse was mired in the sheer number of men around him, and he desperately tried to fend off the attackers. More League cavalry came to relieve Gwydion, pressuring the Church soldiers, but it was not enough. Gwydion was pushed away from the defenses, and the sorties fell back into the Church's defensive line.

"Come on!" Gwydion yelled, barely audible above the din of battle. "Strike again!" He moved to retry an attack, but a stray Church soldier charged and skewered his horse in the neck, causing it to fall out from under him.

Gwydion hit the ground hard, his foot dislodging from the stirrups just in time to avoid being crushed under the horse. The Church soldier reared back to stab Gwydion with his spear, but a stray crossbow bolt hit him in the chest, and he went down. Gwydion picked himself up and saw that the Church's defenders were charging at him.

"Men!" he cried to anyone that would listen. "Form up! Meet the attack!"

A few soldiers around him listened and formed a line, but it was still chaos. All strategy gave way as the battlefield became an indiscriminate massacre. Gwydion was pushed back, up a small knoll, by the unrelenting pressure of the Church's forces. Whoever was leading these men clearly deserved more credit than they gave him.

Gwydion tried to hew his way out, slashing down one soldier, then another, then another. Shells from the fort's artillery rained down on his men, making it impossible to tell who was who in the haze of dirt and smoke. Gwydion finally relented, retreating up the knoll to get a better view of the battlefield.

From his vantage point, he could see the problem; the Church simply had far more manpower than they anticipated. Vulpix's forces rammed into the defenses, just like Gwydion's did, and like Gwydion's they were met with fierce resistance. Contramundi's flank was pinning the defenders more effectively, but it was still a bloodbath.

A Ladybug soldier clambered up the hill, interrupting Gwydion's musings. He charged Gwydion wildly, swinging his axe with seemingly no technique. Gwydion feinted right, throwing the soldier off his game long enough for Gwydion to impale him.

The sound of a galloping horse put Gwydion on edge again, but when he turned, he was surprised to see Vulpix riding toward him. With a spear in one hand and a saber in the other, Vulpix slashed through a few soldiers on the way up before coming to a halt next to him.

"What happened to your horse?" Vulpix shouted. Gwydion shrugged.

"Got lost," he deadpanned. "But there's too many men! We'll never get through!"

"We can't afford not to!" Vulpix said. "I'll prepare another go-around, strike from the right flank. If you take it from the left, we can force them into the field!"

"But we'll never get through the fray!" Gwydion said. "If we send a runner back, get the artillery from the ships…"

"There's not enough!" Vulpix said. "And there's no time! If—"

An arrow whizzed through the air, hitting Vulpix square in the shoulder. He screamed and toppled off his horse, scaring it away. Gwydion turned to see who had fired the shot, and saw a team of four men advancing up the hill. He grit his teeth.

"Come a little closer!" he taunted. He unbuckled the blunderbuss from its strap, took aim, and fired. Shrapnel sprayed down the hill, shredding the two closest men and killing them instantly. The third, in full plate armor, staggered and fell back, wounded. Only one, armed with a crossbow, was far enough away to be uninjured.

"Cheater!" Gwydion shouted. He threw the blunderbuss down and charged down the hill. The crossbowman threw his crossbow down as well and drew his dagger, but Gwydion was quicker. He jumped on the man and drove his sword through his skull like a pickaxe.

"Gwydion!" Vulpix shouted. Gwydion turned around just in time to dodge an attack from the armored soldier. He backed up and wrenched his blade out of the crossbowman's skull, raising it and parrying the armored man's next swing. They locked blades, but suddenly, a spear pierced the man's side. He fell backwards, and Gwydion skewered him before turning to Vulpix.

"Nice save!" he said. Vulpix scoffed.

"What happened to 'don't get cocky?'" he asked. Gwydion grumbled.

"Look, I don't—holy shit!" He pointed out to the field behind them, and Vulpix went agape. A host of Church soldiers struck out from the forests behind them, swarming into the gap between their right flank and the center. They were cut off.

"Where did they come from?" Vulpix asked. Gwydion pointed to the road to Honig, on which soldiers were still marching into the battle.

"They flanked us!" Gwydion said. "They must have snuck through the forests along the road!"

The flanking forces swiveled around the battlefield, stretching out into a line before moving around to entrap the flank. Gwydion and Vulpix could do nothing but desperately shout orders into the din as the flanker came up behind them, encircling their men.

As the soldiers advanced up the hill behind them, meeting the few soldiers on the other side of the hill, Vulpix and Gwydion chose to charge into the battle again.

* * *

Anti walked briskly, ignoring the feeling of the ground shaking beneath her and the sounds of an apocalyptic battle roaring outside. She prowled through the keep, looking for someone—anyone—to make sense of what was happening.

Nitesco ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the metal of his body and his armor clinking with each heavy step. He needed to find an ally. He needed to find Austin. He turned a corner.

Anti turned a corner.

Entering opposite ends of a long hallway, the two saw each other and stopped in their tracks. Anti stared for a second, trying to process what she was seeing.

"You—you're—"

Nitesco breathed heavily, exhausted from running. "Just a sergeant, ma'am," he tried. Was there a chance, however slight, that she'd buy the lie? Would she believe he was just someone who resembled a League commander?

"Nitesco," Anti hissed. She drew her knife and stomped, half-running, across the hallway. Nitesco didn't have the energy to flee. He raised his hands to defend himself. When she was five meters away, Anti stopped and pointed her knife at the space between Nitesco's eyes.

"Anti," Nitesco said. "Let's talk about this."

"What is there to talk about?" she demanded. "I'm going to skin you like the animal you are. You're just going to tell me one thing first. What happened to Faker?"

Nitesco swallowed. "Dead."

Anti didn't miss a beat. "How?"

Nitesco hesitated. "I killed him."

"Don't give me that," Anti hissed. "Tell me everything. How did it happen? What did he say, before he died? I—" she took a breath. "I need to know what happened."

Nitesco looked past the knife into Anti's furious eyes and taunted her with a smirk. "Why should I tell you?"

Anti took another few steps and engaged Nitesco hand-to-hand. It didn't take long for her to fight through his tired defense, grab him by the collar, and press her knife to his neck.

"What. Happened?" she repeated. "Don't lie to me."

Nitesco winced in pain and fear. "We got them separated," he said. "I handled Faker, while Gwydion and Zealander chased Austin—"

Anti drove her knee into Nitesco's stomach, drawing a groan of pain from him. "Try again," she said. "What happened? What are you hiding?"

Nitesco coughed. "What do you think I have to hide?"

Anti pushed Nitesco away and he fell to the floor. She walked around him like a vulture circling over its prey. "Austin and Faker are two of the smartest people I know. They attacked with the support of another commander, a massive naval force, and an army large enough to swallow your fort whole. Then you, with your cheap, peasant army and scraps of weaponry, killed Faker and beat back their forces. The scenario in my head doesn't make sense. I need you to tell me what I have wrong. _How did you defeat them?_"

"You're smart enough to figure that out on your own," Nitesco said. "I think—you just don't want to admit it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You want the truth so badly?" Nitesco asked. "Then have it. Faker is dead, but not by my hand."

Anti's face started to contort in understanding. "Austin?"

"How do you think I got here?"

Anti froze. She gripped her knife tightly until her knuckles turned white. "She's behind all of this."

"That's right," Nitesco said. Anti's fists shook.

"She gave you everything," Anti said, staring down at her trembling knife. "Told you where to go. What to look for. How to get in. She walked you right through the gates. And you blew the fort open. It was her. It was all her."

Nitesco chuckled despite himself. "Give the rest of us some credit. We are a league, after all."

Anti raised her left foot and kicked hard into Nitesco's side, eliciting a grunt of pain. "You are nothing," she said, "and you will all pay for what she did." Anti stepped over Nitesco and pulled her arm back, prepared to stab with her knife. "I'm going to kill you. Then her. Then the rest of the cretins you call allies. On my own, if I must."

Nitesco sucked in a breath and made his move. He pulled his non-metal leg back and moved it around Anti's ankle, then pressed against that ankle with his other leg. Anti thrust with her knife; at the same time, Nitesco rolled his body to the side, dodging Anti's attack, and with the force of his legs, disrupting her balance and forcing her to fall over. Nitesco scrambled to retreat, pulling back several paces and resting, sitting upright, against a wall. Anti stood, dusted herself off, and glared at Nitesco, who was breathing heavily.

"Do you really have time," he said, "to kill me? I'm not saying you couldn't, but I won't make it easy for you."

"You're not talking your way out of this," Anti said.

"Do you know where Zissman is?" Nitesco asked.

"I have a pretty good idea," Anti said.

"Would Austin also have a pretty good idea?"

Anti paused. "Fuck!" She turned away. "If I see you again Nitesco, I swear—I will end you." She ran off, leaving Nitesco to sit with his injuries.

Nitesco watched as she disappeared around the corner. "If," he muttered, then closed his eyes and clutched his side.

Anti ran in the direction of the throne room, through the fort's numerous corridors. When she knew she was far away from Nitesco, she stopped to rest momentarily. As she did, she let her thoughts wander to Faker. To the last time she'd seen him, and the last time she'd seen Austin. Anger and sorrow built up inside her in equal measure, until she could no longer contain them. She screamed, a loud, violent scream of despair, before taking off once again.

Back where Anti had left him, Nitesco kept breathing.


	12. Chapter 12

**August 16, 9 ATC**

**Fort Bombus, Province of Hiven, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Zissman dodged a series of swings from Austin, then continued moving, bouncing on his forefeet, in anticipation of her next attack. Austin stepped back, steadied herself, and considered tactics, keeping her focus on Zissman.

"Quick little bastard, aren't you?" she said.

"I'll cut out your tongue for that remark," Zissman said. "But the same could be said of you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, your highness," Austin taunted. "Your majesty. Oh, mighty stick-up-the-ass. Have I not been showing you the respect you deserve? I'll be sure to honor you as I put you in the ground."

"Brat," Zissman said. "I'll teach you respect."

"I'm all ears, teacher."

Zissman approached at an angle, moving around Austin at the same time he moved toward her in an attempt to reach her side. Austin rotated to stay facing him as Zissman circled, looking for a hole in her defense, an opening to strike. Austin kept her eyes on him, and after a few rotations, seized initiative and swung at Zissman's sword hand.

Zissman reacted in the nick of time, pulling back and staying back without being hit. He wiped some sweat from his brow.

"You'll need to do better than that," Austin said. "You can't surround me if there's just one of you."

"You'll need to keep your mouth shut," Zissman said.

"But how can you cut out my tongue if I keep my mouth shut?"

"Petulant—" Zissman took a breath. "I won't let you goad me into a reckless attack. If all else fails, I can wait for backup."

"And what makes you so sure backup is coming?" Austin asked. "I could say the same, with more confidence. As soon as my friends get here, we'll make short work of you."

Zissman scoffed. "They'll never breach our defenses. You of all people should know that we are prepared to deal with any infiltration."

"And yet, here I am," Austin said.

They stood in silence, sharing a hateful look.

"Suppose it will be just the two of us," Austin said. "Who do you think will last longer? Who has the greater endurance?"

Zissman didn't answer.

"Do you think it'll be the man who spends his days standing at the pulpit? Or will it be the woman who's been running for as long as she can remember?"

"That's a poetic way of underestimating me," Zissman said.

"I suppose it's in my blood," Austin said. "The poetry, that is. Maybe I also inherited a tendency toward killing tyrants."

"You mean your father?" Zissman said. Austin did not respond, but he laughed anyway. "Oh, yes, I know who he was. And I must say, you did a remarkably poor job hiding your connection with him, if that's what you were going for. But it doesn't matter. You'll die here, just like the rest of your pathetic League. And you'll have no one to fight your battle for you."

"Well, that's the thing," Austin said. "I've never leaned too heavily on my ancestry. I've always tried to make my own legacy."

"A series of back-stabbings and military defeats, separated by the occasional fluky victory," Zissman remarked. "Some legacy you'll leave."

"I'm not done yet," Austin said. "Now, are you going to stand there, or are you going to attack? Clock's ticking."

"I'm well aware."

They had circled back to roughly the positions they'd started in: facing each other, Zissman in front of his throne and Austin halfway between the throne and the door.

"Again, I'm happy to wait you out," Austin said. "You can try to deal with me, or with me and my comrades once they get here. I have faith in them. Your defenses will not hold."

"That's the fundamental flaw you all share," Zissman said. "You misplace your faith."

Austin heard the door to the throne room creak open behind her.

"Time's up!" she declared. She turned her head. "Good of you to join us…"

When she had fully turned around, Austin saw Anti Logic standing in the doorway.

Austin's face turned pale. A chill ran down her spine. The look on Anti's face was sharp enough to cut through steel, and hateful enough to kill. For the first time that day, Austin was visibly affected by her fear

"Anti," she gasped.

"Enough!" Anti said, barely a whisper, and she broke into a sprint straight at Austin. She lunged and thrust her knife toward Austin's neck. Austin barely managed to sidestep the attack. As Anti's momentum carried her past her target, Austin used her free hand to shove Anti in the back, throwing her off balance and sending her tumbling to the ground. Anti scrambled to her feet and turned, ready to break into another charge, when Zissman grabbed her by the shoulder. She snapped her head and looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Patience, Anti," he said. "We will kill her. With you here, we can make short work of it. But you must not let your feelings interfere with your sense. We must work together, carefully, to defeat her."

Zissman's soothing tone failed to break through Anti's shell. She remained visibly infuriated, and her breathing remained heavy. However, she nodded and relaxed ever so slightly. "Fine," she said. "You're right. Together."

"Good," Zissman said. He allowed himself a smile as he looked down at Austin. "The moment you promised has arrived! An ally appears to turn the tide. But not your ally. Not anymore."

Anti, too, looked down at Austin. "You threw that away," she said. "And I will make sure you pay for it."

Austin looked back and forth between Anti and Zissman. She took a step back, then another, distancing herself from them. For a second, she wondered if what she was feeling was the same as what Inferno had felt before her final duel. She gritted her teeth.

"I'm not done yet," she said.

"That will change in a minute," Anti said. She nodded at Zissman, and they approached Austin from opposite sides. This time, Austin had to deal with not one, but two circling opponents. A careful defense would no longer be enough. Retreat was not an option; she'd be cut down with her hand on the door. The choice was clear—attack, or be overwhelmed.

Austin rushed toward Zissman, sword gripped in both hands.

Zissman planted his feet and braced himself. Austin heavily swung at him. Zissman caught her blade with his own, parrying the attack. The steel collided with a loud, piercing ring. Austin, pushed back, moved with her momentum and spun into a low sweep at Zissman's legs. He pulled back, and she only caught the tip of his boot. As she tried to regain her footing, Austin looked toward Anti just in time to see Anti's fist rocketing toward her face.

Anti's strike connected with Austin's right eye, sending Austin staggering back. Austin blinked furiously, trying to get her distorted vision into focus. Three blurry Antis approaching her settled into one Anti, raising her knife for a slashing attack. Austin caught Anti's swing with her off hand, to which Anti responded with another punch to the eye, sending Austin reeling once again. With even greater difficulty, Austin tried to hold herself upright to defend against Anti.

Zissman saw an opening. He swung his sword toward Austin's right hand and connected with her wrist. His blade drove deep, cutting into the bone with a sickening, fleshy sound. Austin dropped her sword and screamed in pain.

"It's over," Zissman said.

Anti grabbed Austin by the neck. Holding Austin's throat for leverage, she delivered a knee to Austin's stomach, then pushed her back and down, slamming her into the ground. Austin, in horrible pain, struggled weakly against Anti's hold.

"It's over," Anti said.

Austin was overwhelmed by multiple pains: the throbbing in her already-swelling eye and the splitting agony of her fractured wrist. Pinned to the ground, she couldn't summon the strength to push back against Anti. Even she knew; it was over. She let her arms fall in defeat.

"I must say, I am relieved," Zissman said. "I might have been overwhelmed were it not for your help, Anti. You have served the Goddess well." He slowly moved his arm and pointed at Austin. "Now, I shall let you do the honors. Finish her, and put an end to—"

"Silence," Anti said.

Zissman stopped. "What?" he said. He was too shocked to be offended.

"I came to your rescue. I took her down. Now the rest is between me and her. So be silent, Zissman, and don't interrupt me."

Zissman recovered enough of himself to be angry. "We don't have time for this!" he said.

"I'm _making_ time," Anti said. She glowered at Zissman, warning him with her eyes not to argue further. After a few seconds, Zissman relented.

"So be it," he said. "I leave it to you."

Anti looked down at Austin, who she still held down by her neck. She noticed Austin's eyes were moist and red.

"Crying, now?" Anti said. "You have no right to cry."

Austin shut her eyes and turned her head away.

"Did Faker cry?" Anti asked. "When he was dying at your feet, did he break down in tears?"

Austin said nothing. Anti stood upright, lifter her foot over Austin's stomach, and stomped down.

"That wasn't rhetorical," Anti said. "Answer me!"

Austin's voice was weak. "He didn't," she said. "It was too fast."

"Do you think, if it had taken longer, he would have wept before his enemies?"

When Austin failed to answer immediately, Anti again stomped on her stomach, drawing a pained groan and coughing.

"No, he wouldn't have," Austin said.

"That's right," Anti said. "He was stronger than you. His will was stronger. His mind was stronger. Before I let you die, I want to be sure you understand a few things. You are weak. Weak-willed, and weak-minded. You don't deserve the trust others put in you. You never deserved the trust _I_ gave you."

As she said this, Anti knelt down and slapped Austin across the face with her open palm. Austin did nothing to resist. Not satisfied with the force of just one, Anti repeatedly slapped Austin, back and forth across the face, until both sides were battered red. When she was finished, she kept talking.

"Is this how you thought it would end?" Anti asked. "Was this the noble death you envisioned for yourself?" Austin hesitated, and fell victim to another slap.

"I hadn't thought much about that," Austin said.

"No, of course you didn't," Anti said. "You thought you'd get to play the hero again. Leave here with your allies singing your praises. You could let yourself mistake their manipulating your ego for real respect. That's the dream you killed Faker for, right?"

"Not true," Austin breathed.

"What was that?" Anti asked, striking Austin once again to punctuate her question. "You'll need to speak up."

"You're wrong!" Austin said, with pain evident in her voice. She summoned the willpower to open her eyes and glare up at Anti. "My friendships are real. Nitesco, Gwydion, even Zealander and Opifexa, they all care about me, as much as I do for them. You want to know why I killed Faker? Why I would have gladly killed you? Because I was always, always, fighting for them. They're what matter to me. Not the power, or the war. Them."

Anti absorbed Austin's words for a second, then struck her again.

"That's it? That's all you have to say? You killed Faker, turned against me, for who—Nitesco? That's laughable. Pitiful. And Ironic." Anti laughed a forced, bitter laugh.

"What do you mean?" Austin said.

"Nitesco is dead," Anti said. "I killed him myself."

Austin froze. Though her body was in a whirlwind of pain, she could still feel herself getting lightheaded. "No," she said.

"In the end, he was as mortal as the rest of us. He bled like a pig, then died like one," Anti said. "So much for your unbreakable bond."

"It's not true," Austin whimpered. "It can't be true."

"That's funny," Anti said. "That's exactly what I thought, when I heard you and Faker had died."

Anti raised her open hand yet again. Knowing what was coming, Austin winced. As Anti delivered five blows in a steady rhythm, she shouted:

"Isn't. That. Just. So. Funny?"

Austin began sobbing. Slow, uncontrollable sobs. "Please," she said. "If you're going to kill me, just… get it over with."

Anti laughed again. "'If,' you said. Ridiculous. I'll kill you, don't worry. But first, I said I would make you pay."

Austin watched with blurry vision as Anti took her knife and held it over Austin's face, pointed directly at her right eye. Realizing what was about to happen, Austin had no words. She just shook her head. No, no, no. Her silent plea went ignored.

Anti wound up, then slashed—

* * *

"My men," Opifexa hissed. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she tried to project bravery. Coronam frantically stuffed another key into the lock. "What did you do to them?"

"Why do you think I'm covered in blood?" he asked. Beneath his mask, Opifexa could tell he was smiling. She bristled with hate.

"You monster," she said. Draco chuckled.

"Trying to free these two, I see," he said. "Too bad. We didn't even have time to lash them today." He pointed his scimitar at Opifexa. "But I guess you'll do."

Opifexa didn't have a chance to respond before Draco was upon her. He swung quickly and recklessly, disturbingly quick for a man in such heavy armor. Opifexa instantly shifted into a defensive position, deflecting the strike with surprising skill. Draco growled.

"I thought you'd be a pushover," Draco said. "Like the guys upstairs."

"Sorry to disappoint you!" Opifexa yelled. She lunged at Draco's neck, but he knocked her aside.

"It's okay," he said. "The tougher the opponent, the more favor I win with the Goddess."

Opifexa backed up and studied her opponent. He never swung with his left hand. He only used the right hand, the one holding the scimitar. She readied herself to strike.

"And what if you lose?" she asked, punctuating her question with a feint towards his left hand. Draco moved to block it, but Opifexa reared back and struck again, this time at his right hand. In a single swipe, she slashed Draco's right hand, mangling several fingers and causing him to scream and drop his scimitar. He reared back and hissed in pain.

"I won't," he grunted. Opifexa thrusted again, but this time Draco caught it, wrapping his arm around the blade and hugging it to his side before he yanked Opifexa toward him. She stumbled forward, and Draco grabbed her by the hair before swinging her into the wall. Opifexa screamed and collapsed to the ground.

"Draco!" Coronam yelled. He finally got the right key, unlocking his cell door. As he stepped out, he threw it to Kazehh, who began wriggling to unlock his as well. "Stop this, now!"

"It's a bit late for that, Coronam," Draco said. He grabbed a dazed Opifexa by the collar, scooping her up and holding her over his head. "I don't take prisoners. I just beat them."

"Your fight's with me, not her!" he yelled. Kazehh opened his cell door and stood behind Coronam. "Put her down."

"Oh, I'll put her down all right!" Draco said. He hoisted Opifexa a little further over his head before bringing her down into his knee. Opifexa screeched in pain, hearing a sickening crack before she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

Kazehh and Coronam studied the battlefield, seeing if they had any advantages. Opifexa was up against a wall, breathing shallowly. She could be an obstacle. Draco had dropped his scimitar, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He was focused on them.

"Scum," he sneered. "You think that now you're outside your prison cells, that'll stop me from beating you down? Not a chance."

"You're welcome to try," Kazehh said. Coronam stared hatefully at Draco, but neither moved to attack.

"Ever so clever," Draco said. "I think I'll take your tongue out before I throw you—"

Coronam interrupted him, running forward and hoisting him up at the waist. Draco was slammed into the floor, but Coronam was not strong enough to keep him pinned. Draco knocked him off and staggered to his feet.

"Alright, Coronam," he said. "You made your point. Now—" he delivered a brutal blow to Coronam's jaw. "Stay down."

Kazehh charged Draco, and the situation devolved into a fistfight. Kazehh unleashed a flurry of jabs at Draco, not doing much damage against his armor, but harassing him enough for Coronam to get a few heavy hits it. Draco was more agile than he appeared: he unleashed kicks and punches with unexpected speed.

Coronam and Kazehh were out of practice, and felt their stamina running out quickly. Kazehh feinted at Draco's eyes, then at his groin, but he was too slow. Draco grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his wrist.

"Pathetic!" Draco cried. Coronam delivered a strong blow to his helmet, eliciting a loud thump. Draco let go of Kazehh, and he darted away, while Coronam continued his assault on Draco.

"What kind of a sadist are you?" Coronam asked. Draco deflected a punch to the gut. Draco weathered a punch to the shoulder was weathered.

"What kind of a monster is under that helm?" Coronam said.

"Stop trying to be poetic," Draco yelled. He caught Coronam's punch and slammed him into the bars of a cell. "I only serve my queen."

"I thought you served the Goddess," Coronam said. Draco scowled beneath his helmet.

"What difference does it make?" he asked. Distracted, Kazehh crept up behind him and put him in a Full Nelson, prying him off of Coronam. Coronam delivered a strong punch to Draco's gut, and Draco slammed into the wall behind him, causing Kazehh to wince.

Coronam pressed the attack, striking Draco fiercely while he was still immobilized. Finally, Draco wrenched Kazehh off him, throwing him in an open empty cell before turning back to Coronam. Coronam knocked him back against the wall, beating him savagely, and Draco desperately tried to fend him off.

"Back, back!" Draco commanded. He got in a lucky jab to Coronam's nose, which loosened his hold enough to wrench free. Coronam came back after him, but Draco took off his helmet and threw it at him, giving him enough time to execute a swift uppercut that knocked Coronam out cold.

Kazehh staggered out of the open cell door and was surprised to see Jay staring back at him. His expression of anger turned to one of shock.

"Jay?" he asked. Draco cocked his head.

"Are you talking to me?" he said. Kazehh's shock turned to horror as he realized what the Church had done to him.

"You don't remember?" Kazehh asked. "You're Jay. Queen Inferno's royal guard." Draco's eyes widened a little bit, but he stayed in an aggressive position.

"Jay, huh?" He twisted the name in his mouth, tasting it for truth, and found that it rang true. "That sounds about right."

"It's yours," Kazehh said. He loosened his posture, trying to appear non-threatening. "You used to be—"

Draco lunged at him, grabbing at his throat, and Kazehh backpedaled. He resumed a fighting stance.

"Just because you told me that doesn't give you a free pass," Draco growled.

"So you still want to be their puppet?" Kazehh yelled. This wasn't just for survival anymore. This was personal. Draco had killed Jelo, maybe Opifexa, and he had hurt Coronam. And he did it all willingly.

"I follow my goddess," Draco said.

"Your queen, you mean?" Kazehh said. Draco spat.

"Shut up!" he yelled, and he clobbered Kazehh. Kazehh's nose was broken by now, it had to be, but he kept jabbing and swinging and dodging all the punches he could. The scimitar was on the ground, just behind Draco. Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Do you remember them, 'Draco'?" Kazehh hissed. He tried circling around Draco, but Draco remained still. "All the people you killed? All the people you hurt? And it's not even because you're a brainwashed flunky. It's because you _want_ to! You enjoy it, don't you?"

"I don't enjoy it because they suffer," Draco said. He advanced menacingly. "I enjoy it because I know my goddess is pleased by it. I was nothing before Zissman came to me. Now, I am a tool of the divine. He gave me purpose. Even if I could remember, I wouldn't go back."

"You twisted fuck!" Kazehh finally lost his temper, stepping forward to batter Draco. "I know you remember them. I hope it makes you miserable!"

Draco backhanded him and pushed him back. "You're thinking about your friend, aren't you?" Draco laughed. "I remember him. I remember him from before."

Kazehh moved to strike, but Draco grabbed him by the throat and kneed him in the chest. They toppled onto the ground, and Draco began strangling him.

"I could only ever remember the queen," he said. "My lady. She seemed so regal, so graceful. I thought she was the Goddess, at first. But then I remembered your friend. Jelo, right?"

Kazehh struggled against Draco, but the man was far too strong, and Kazehh had languished too long in captivity. Draco spat on him and tightened his grip.

"Ah, yes. Jelo. When I saw him at Guns N' Roses… I couldn't quite place my finger on why I hated him, but I knew I did. I wanted revenge. When I killed him, it was immensely gratifying. And now I know why. I remember him standing over me, watching as I lost consciousness. He killed me, Kazehh. And I killed him."

Kazehh's vision began to fade. Too soon, too soon….

"When you get to hell, tell him I say hello," Draco sneered. Suddenly, he heard a groan. He looked up and saw that Coronam had awoken, and he was struggling to his feet.

"No!" Draco cried. His grip loosened, just for a second. It was all Kazehh needed.

Kazehh broke free of Draco's grip, throwing him back. Instead of leaning in to press the advantage, he lunged for the scimitar, still sitting on the ground. Draco realized what he was doing, and he grabbed Kazehh's ankle and yanked his leg out from under him.

"Nice try, whelp," Draco said. "I'll make it quick, how's that?"

"You won't get the chance," Kazehh said. His fingers found the hilt. He grabbed the scimitar and, with all his force, swung it down into Draco's shoulder.

Draco screeched and fell backward, the blade coming out as he did so. Kazehh stood and walked slowly toward Draco.

"That was for Jelo," he said. Draco tried to pull himself up on the bars of a cell, but Kazehh slammed the blade into his hip, and he fell right back down with a loud yelp.

"That was for Opifexa," Kazehh said. Draco tried to crawl away, inching into an open cell, desperately trying to put distance between him and Kazehh. It was no use. Kazehh let him crawl into a cell, then skewered him in the knee to stop him from going any further.

"That was for Coronam," Kazehh said. He tossed the scimitar through the open door and kneeled on Draco's chest. Draco looked up at him in fear and in hatred. Kazehh rolled up the sleeves of his tunic.

"And this," he said, punching Draco in the face. "This is for every good man and woman you've ruined!" Kazehh bellowed a war cry, a cry of anger and pent-up rage, and he began beating Draco. Punch after punch rained down on Draco, beating him until his face was bruised and bloody. Draco began whimpering, crying softly, and Kazehh stopped. He was more surprised than anything to see him cry.

"My lady," he whimpered. "My lady, please forgive me. I'm sorry I failed you, I'm so sorry. Forgive me, I beg of you. My lady, my lady…"

Kazehh's heart sank, and he realized that he had been beating a defenseless man senseless, just like Draco had done.

"I'm not you," he spat. He stood and left the cell, finding Coronam crouched next to Opifexa. She was awake now, and breathing heavily. Hurt, but alive.

"Opifexa," Coronam said. He cradled her head. "Are you alright?"

"I can't… I can't feel my legs," she said. "They won't move."

"That's okay," Coronam whispered. "I'll carry you." He scooped her up and began walking toward the exit, stopping to look at Draco lying in his cell, still blubbering to his imaginary mistress.

"Are you going to kill him?" Coronam asked. Kazehh picked up the scimitar. His rage boiled within him, but when he looked on Draco, on what a pathetic thing he had been reduced to, he sighed.

"No," Kazehh said. He closed the door to the cell, locking Draco in. "If he dies, he dies. If he lives… I hope he's learned a lesson. But I won't stoop to his level. I won't be like him."

Coronam nodded. "Are the stables nearby?"

"They should be," Kazehh said. He cast one last glance at Draco before looking away. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

As they left the prison, Kazehh could still hear Draco as they went up the stairs. He listened to his cries, his whimpers of 'my lady, my lady,' and hoped he had made the right choice.

* * *

Nitesco moved at a fast walk, trying to keep a balance between preserving energy and making haste. After taking a few minutes to gather his strength, he'd taken off in the direction Anti had gone. To him, though, the fort was a labyrinth. He traversed the unfamiliar hallways, ducking around corners to avoid the occasional patrol, and looking for any indicator of where Austin, Zissman, and—probably, thanks to him—Anti could be. After roughly ten minutes of roaming, he rounded a corner and caught sight of an iron door with a dead Church guard on either side. Believing he'd found the right place, Nitesco hurriedly stalked toward the door.

Then he heard Austin scream. Adrenaline kicked in instantly, and Nitesco broke into a sprint for the door. He ground to a stop in front if it, lifted his metal, foot, kicked the door wide open, and ran in.

He observed the scene in slow motion. Anti standing over Austin holding her bloody red knife, and Zissman across the room standing with his arms folded. Both jumped at his entrance and faced him, hastily readying themselves. Wasting no time, Nitesco charged toward Anti at full speed. She didn't have time to set herself before he rammed into her with the full weight of his body, knocking her to the floor. He lifted his sword and faced Zissman, deterring him from approaching.

"Austin!" Nitesco called over his shoulder. "Get Anti! Quickly!"

Austin heard Nitesco's voice, and her body moved before her mind knew what it was doing. Her nerves caught fire as she rolled onto her stomach, then onto her knees. Though she could hardly see anything with her blurred red vision, she heard the sound of Anti groaning, and lunged toward it, reaching to grab something, any part of her. She closed her fist around a handful of hair. The rest was instinctive violence. She pulled Anti's head by the hair up from the ground, then with a grunt, slammed her into the hard stone floor. She repeated this several times, until Anti's struggling movements and groans ceased, and she lay limp with Austin on top of her.

Blood dripped from Austin's wounded face onto Anti's unconscious face. Zissman, kept at bay be Nitesco at sword length, could do nothing but watch.

"Are you alright, Austin?" Nitesco asked.

"I'm alive," she said. Her voice shook as she spoke. "But I'm far, far from alright."

"Can you stand?" he asked.

"I can try," she replied. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed herself up, struggling to keep her balance. "I'm coming to stand next to you," she announced.

"Okay," Nitesco said, keeping his eyes trained on Zissman. Zissman simply scowled in silence. Austin took slow steps toward him. One, pause. Two, pause. When she was finally at his side, Nitesco looked at her face and gasped in horror.

The bruises and swelling were heavy and ugly, but they were far from the worst part. Austin's right eye—or where it was supposed to be—was covered in a sea of blood, deep crimson red. The blood kept flowing from the spot, trailing down her cheek like dark tears, with the occasional drop dripping and splashing on the floor.

"God. Austin, your eye."

"Hurts like hell," Austin said. "Is it bad?"

Nitesco nodded slowly. "Very bad."

"Good thing I have two, then," she said. With her left arm she wiped the blood, sweat, and dirt from around her left eye, then opened it wide, getting a clear look at Nitesco for the first time since he'd entered.

"You're looking alright, at least," she offered. "I'm glad you made it." She looked at Zissman. "Let's finish this. Where's my sword?"

"No, I've changed my mind," Nitesco said. "You're in no condition to continue. I can handle him myself. Stay back."

"_You're_ in no condition to face him alone," Austin said. "You're fine, but not pristine. We can't take any risks. You need me. I'm hurting, but I can still fight. Where is my sword?"

"Austin—" Nitesco started to protest again.

"There," Austin said, ignoring him and walking over to where her sword lay, a few feet from Anti. She reached out with her right hand, then, wincing from the pain in her wrist from Zissman's earlier strike, she pulled back and grabbed her weapon with her left hand instead. As she picked it up, she looked down at Anti for a second, lying unconscious and defenseless, but breathing shallowly. She hesitated. Then she left her and walked back to Nitesco, taking position on his left this time.

"Using your left hand?" Nitesco said. "Are you sure about this?"

"Right now, the entire right side of my body is damaged," Austin said. "The best I can do is fall back on my left. I've still got one good eye and one good arm, so I'll use them."

Nitesco looked at her in wonder. "You never cease to remind me of the best people in my life," he said.

"Enough!" Zissman shouted. Austin and Nitesco raised their weapons and braced for combat.

"You both have some nerve," he continued, "barging in and then acting like I'm not even here. You think this is a game? That you can take a break to catch up and chat? You have greater concerns!"

"My chief concern right now is Austin's safety," Nitesco said. "Killing you is a very close second."

"Your pet still lives, but rest assured she won't last much longer." Zissman pulled his arms in and took a closed, seemingly defensive stance. "You will both die, now."

"Your words say one thing, but your body says another," Austin said. "Even now I can see through you. We have you outnumbered. Give up, and I promise we'll make it quick."

"Yes, outnumbered by two cripples," Zissman said. "I'm shaking in my boots, truly."

"These two cripples just made short work of Anti," Nitesco said.

"Foolish girl. I told her to get it over with, but she had to fuel her petty desire for vengeance. Now she's left me with the dirty work."

Austin said to Nitesco, "I'll approach from the left. We get him from both sides, he can't counter us."

"I didn't want it to come to this," Zissman said, "But I know that even in these dire straits, the Goddess will protect me. I've studied, I've planned, and today I have come prepared."

"What are you saying?" Nitesco said.

Zissman reached into the right sleeve of his robe with his free hand. There was a faint _click_ of something being unbuckled. When Zissman pulled his hand back out, he held in it a small black bottle with an ornate handle serving as the lid. He held the bottle before him and looked down at it, mouthing a silent prayer.

"What's that supposed to be?" Austin asked. "Holy water?"

Zissman chuckled. "In a sense."

He dropped his sword to the ground and grabbed the handle. Tilting the bottle sideways, he twisted and pulled, separating the two parts. The handle was revealed to be connected to a blade; a dagger crafted to use the bottle as a sheathe. The blade was completely coated in a viscous dark green liquid. He dropped the bottle to the ground and moved the dagger, getting a sense of its weight in his hand.

"Shit!" Nitesco said.

"What is it?" Austin asked.

"Poison!"

Zissman smirked. "Ever the sharp one, Nitesco! But I suppose you'd know a lot about poison, wouldn't you?" Over Nitesco's angry growl, Zissman went on. "It's called the Sinner's Sleep. Oh, it's not going to kill you. Not right away. It works slowly. It numbs the limbs, slows them, paralyzes them. And eventually, you fall into a deep, never-ending sleep. There's plenty on this blade for the both of you. Admittedly, plenty for me, too, if I'm not cautious. That's why I kept it as a last resort. But the Goddess is telling me that now is not the time to hold back. I will be brave and use every means available to finish this."

Nitesco shook his head. "You carry a poison dagger and call yourself brave. You could make yourself believe anything, couldn't you?"

The levity left Zissman's face as his expression turned to a cold, steely mask. He started walking forward.

"Be careful," Nitesco warned Austin. "Don't let him touch you with that thing, no matter what."

"I should be telling you that," Austin said. "Stay alive, Nitesco."

"That was my plan."

"I mean, don't put yourself at risk for my sake. It's not okay to die for me. Got it?"

Nitesco nodded. "You'd better not get any ideas like that, either."

Zissman stepped within five meters of both Austin and Nitesco, ready to strike at both of them.

"Time's up," Austin said. She and Nitesco moved simultaneously.

Zissman's head was on a swivel, watching both Austin and Nitesco at all times and timing his movement just right to avoid their stabs and swings. At the same time, as he moved, he tried to get within striking distance of either of his opponents. The task proved difficult due to the shortness of his weapon. He couldn't match Austin or Nitesco in reach, so he had to look for a chance to exploit one of their weaknesses. As Austin missed yet another attack, he found that chance. He lunged for her right shoulder, seeking to pierce it with the dagger. Austin, carried by the momentum of her missed swing, had nowhere to go. Nowhere, except down. She bent her knees, and let gravity pull her to the floor, falling just under Zissman's dagger.

Having missed with his weapon, Zissman opted to use his arm. He drove his elbow into Austin's bloody right eye region. Austin screamed and instinctively raised her right hand to cover the pain. Instead of trying to capitalize, Zissman turned around, just in time to see Nitesco swinging at him. He dodged again and prepared to attempt another stab.

He felt two hands wrap around his ankle and pull.

Austin, with all the willpower she could muster, used both her left hand and injured right hand to pull Zissman's right ankle toward her, throwing off his balance. Before Zissman could react, Nitesco grabbed hold of Zissman's right arm—the dagger arm—and held it in place.

"Useless!" Zissman hissed. He punched Nitesco with his left hand. Nitesco held firm, keeping a tight grip on Zissman's arm. Zissman, in turn, held his dagger as tightly as he could. Zissman kept hitting Nitesco, trying to force him to relent.

Austin pulled herself to her feet, then seized Zissman's left arm by the wrist, stopping his punches. Zissman struggled against her grip, but neither she nor Nitesco would unhand him. Zissman turned his head and saw Austin's face. He saw the place where her right eye had been, a bloody, gory mess, and her left eye, a shining window, reflective enough for Zissman to see his own face in it—to see the fear written on his face.

Austin pulled her head back, then slammed her skull into Zissman's.

The headbutt was enough to make Zissman falter, just enough that Nitesco could get the leverage to twist his arm. Nitesco kept applying torque until Zissman could take no more; he dropped his dagger to the ground.

"Here, Nitesco!" Austin said. She pulled Zissman's arm around behind his back and passed it to Nitesco. Nitesco kept Zissman restrained by both arms. Try as he might, Zissman could not escape the hold.

Austin went to pick up the dagger Zissman had dropped. "What were your words earlier, Zissman?" she asked. "'It's over?'"

Zissman thrashed against Nitesco's grip, pulling madly. "You think this is where it ends?" he said. His confidence and superior air had all but disappeared. "You think you can defeat me? That you're better than me?!"

Austin took the dagger and stood in front of Zissman. "This is about more than you and me, Zissman." She held the dagger in a reverse grip. "What I do now, I do for everyone. Armed and Ready. Guns N' Roses. Renora. And all the others you've subjugated for your own gains. You claimed time and time again that you knew best. Argued that you could do better for them than they could for themselves. Preached that no matter how much you damaged them, they should trust you."

She lifted the dagger high into the air. Zissman followed it with his eyes. He saw its green poison shining like a lethal aurora in the torchlight.

"This," Austin proclaimed, "is their rebuttal!"

She plunged the dagger into Zissman's chest. Down and in. It carved through his clothing as easily as it carved through air, breached his ribcage, and sank into his body, getting buried all the way up to the hilt.

Zissman's mouth hung open, but he made no sound. He fell to his knees, no longer able to support his own weight. Nitesco lowered him down onto his back.

"Well said, Austin," Nitesco said. He allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. "We did it. We really did it."

Austin looked down at Zissman. "Let's not count our chickens just yet. I want to see him pass. Make sure there's no doubt."

"Fair enough," Nitesco said. "Let's hope it doesn't take too long."

Austin knelt down next to Zissman and examined his face. He was pale, sickly, and sweating a boatful. The poison was already doing its work.

"How fast-acting is this poison of yours?" she asked Zissman.

Zissman, struggling to focus on anything, looked at her with hazy eyes. "The poison," he said. "It's in me. It's in me."

"Yes," Austin said.

"I've been poisoned."

"You have."

"I'm dying."

"You are."

Zissman's eyes became vacant. He looked at Austin, yet at the same time was looking at nothing. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Did I stray?"

"What?" Austin said.

"Did I ever…stray from the righteous path?" Zissman asked. "That things could have gone this way…did I do something wrong?"

"Yes," Nitesco said. "Yes. Obviously, you did! Don't try to act like some innocent victim when you're the one who—"

"That's enough, Nitesco," Austin said. "There's no point."

Nitesco looked away.

"But…" Zissman stammered. "I did so much. Waited so long. Sacrificed so many lives…"

"Whatever is weighing on you is between you and your Goddess now, Zissman," Austin said.

Zissman let his eyes fall shut. "My Goddess," he said. "All of this, for her. And… I failed her…"

"Now you can go to her," Austin said, kneeling at his side. "You can be with her."

"But I'm not ready!" he protested. Austin shook her head.

"We rarely are," she said. Zissman rested his head on the floor, and despite himself, began to laugh. He raised a hand to the ceiling.

"How much did I give you?" he asked. "How long did I work for you? How much did I sacrifice for you? Just to die before our glory. Oh, what a waste…"

The last of his strength vanished, and his body went limp.

Austin rose from his side. "That's it, then," she said.

"You gave him better than he deserved," Nitesco said. "You remember what he did, right?"

"Even so, nobody deserves to die alone. Not even him."

Nitesco smiled and shook his head. "Just when I think I've got you figured out; you surprise me. Now, what do we do about her?" Nitesco looked over to where Anti lay. Then he said, "Oh. Her!"

Anti, having regained consciousness, saw Austin and Nitesco standing over Zissman's body. She gave them both the look of death.

Austin took a step backwards. "We need to go," she said.

"We're just leaving her here?" Nitesco asked.

"As long as we get Zissman and Jannis, the Church is done. We don't need to deal with her. But we have to regroup with the others, sooner rather than later." She leaned into Nitesco. "I can't handle another fight right now. Not with her. Please. Let's go."

Nitesco considered her words for a second, then nodded. "Alright. We need to get you treated. Let's get out of here."

Austin used Nitesco as a support as they went to the door. Anti watched them leave. She was left alone with her thoughts. Alone with consequences.

* * *

Gwydion and Vulpix fought together in the middle of the bloodbath. Soldiers all around them fought and screamed and killed each other. Together they wove through the chaos, picking off the ones that stood to face them, covering each other's weaknesses, until they stood before the breach.

Through the smoke and haze, they could see one man standing in the breach, fending off the League soldiers who attempted to rush past him, bellowing orders all the while. One attempted to run past him; the commander beheaded him with his massive longsword. Two others attempted to charge him directly. He bashed the first one aside with his shield and, after a brief engagement, slew the second. He stomped on the first one's neck, still prone on the ground, and looked up. He saw Vulpix and Gwydion, and his eyes widened.

"Jannis," Gwydion growled. Jannis smirked.

"Gwydion," he said. He turned to Vulpix. "Zealander. Such distinguished company. A shame your soldiers aren't held to the same standard."

"Fuck you, Jannis," Vulpix said. Jannis was taken aback.

"Such vulgarity," he said. His face went completely blank. "I will be sure to beat some respect into you before I kill you."

"You're welcome to try!" Gwydion shouted. With a yell, he charged Jannis. Jannis was quick to respond, putting up his shield just in time to block his attack. Vulpix was not slow to follow up, but Jannis knocked his saber away with his greatsword.

The dance continued: Vulpix and Gwydion attacked in tandem, trying to flank Jannis, but he was having none of it. Any attack was blocked or sidestepped. Though he was confidently holding his own, Jannis was not able to counterattack.

"Useless, useless!" Jannis taunted. Another one of Gwydion's attacks was sidestepped. "You have no hope. You're surrounded. Give up and I will treat you fairly."

Vulpix slashed, was knocked away, and steadied himself. "I was going to extend you the same offer."

"Not a chance," Jannis growled. "I won't surrender, to you least of all."

"Then die to us!" Gwydion exclaimed. He tried an overhead swing, but was rebuffed.

"Sloppy, sloppy," Jannis chided. "Such poor form."

"Is talk all you got?" Gwydion asked. He and Vulpix attacked at the same time. Jannis backpedaled, just barely dodging their swings, but it was enough. He whirled around, the tip of his sword catching Vulpix's cheek and tearing through it until it came out the mouth. Vulpix shouted and grabbed his cheek, which now bore a messy, bloody smile.

"Ask him," Jannis sneered. As Gwydion lunged at him, he kicked him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. As he tried to get back up, Jannis bludgeoned him in the nose with his shield, dazing him. He raised his sword to finish him off, but just as he plunged it down, Vulpix shoved his sword in the way. Jannis's sword went off at an angle, but he blocked Vulpix's followup.

"Fool," Jannis said. "You had the perfect opportunity to stab me in the back. And you gave it up to save this peasant."

"I don't regret it," Vulpix said. He traded a few more blows with Jannis. "He's my brother in arms. I'd gladly give up a chance at you to save him."

"And that's why you'll lose," Jannis said. "You don't know how to sacrifice!" He managed an overhead swing, coming down on Vulpix with enough force to knock his saber away. He then rammed his shield into Vulpix's face, then again, and again, sending him down like Gwydion.

A loud crack rang out, and the bullet flew into Jannis's shoulder blade, lodging itself between the armor and the skin. Jannis screamed in pain. Behind Jannis, Gwydion quickly loaded another shot into his hand cannon as Jannis regained his posture.

"You and your fucking tricks!" Jannis yelled. Gwydion went in for a hit, but underestimated Jannis's strength. Jannis clobbered him with the flat edge of his sword, causing Gwydion to stumble into a large ditch. As Jannis descended into the ditch, Vulpix regained consciousness.

In a concussed daze, he looked up and saw something moving through the fray of soldiers, something on horseback. Contramundi? Against all odds, not only had he survived the rout, he was carving a path toward them.

Vulpix stumbled to his feet, his head throbbing and his face aching. He had to move. The swarm of Church soldiers was being pushed back, yes, but that meant they were being pushed in his direction.

Vulpix saw Gwydion in the ditch, fighting Jannis. As he charged to the edge, Jannis caught Gwydion in the leg, causing Gwydion to yelp. Gwydion responded by thrusting at Jannis's face, catching his ear and sending Jannis back.

"Gwydion!" Vulpix called. "Contramundi is on his way!"

"No!" Jannis yelled. He turned to charge out of the ditch, but Gwydion swung at him, forcing him back.

"Get Nitesco!" Gwydion yelled back. "And the others! I'll keep this beast back!" Vulpix hesitated. He knew Gwydion wouldn't last forever against Jannis, but he also knew he wasn't good for a fight anymore. If Jannis rallied his defenders, they would be crushed. And if Nitesco and the others didn't make it out in time, then it was all for nothing.

"I will!" Vulpix yelled. He turned and ran into the fort, ignored by the other soldiers, while Gwydion did battle with Jannis.

* * *

After Austin and Nitesco had made their way into the courtyard, Austin asked to stop for a break.

"I know we're in a hurry," she said. "I need a moment. Just a moment."

"Okay," Nitesco said. "Probably a good idea. Let me see if I can cover up that wound."

Austin nodded and sat down. Nitesco used his sword to cut a strip of cloth from his shirt. "This may sting a bit," he said.

"It's just a bandage," Austin said. Yet as Nitesco wrapped the cloth over her eye and around her head, she hissed in pain.

"I know, I know," he said. "It's painful."

"Yeah."

"You should know that the eye is likely gone," Nitesco said.

"I figured as much," Austin said. "I understand, but I don't think it's really sunk in yet."

"I'm sorry this happened," Nitesco said. "I wish I had gotten there sooner. I might have been able to prevent this." Austin placed her left hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, she said. "You got there in time to save me. I'm grateful. Besides, this is no more than I deserve."

Nitesco raised his eyebrows. "Deserve? What are you talking about?"

Austin's eye watered. "I'm still alive, after all I've done. I've taken so much. I had to lose something eventually."

"You mean, something had to go wrong sooner or later?"

"No. No, I mean something had to happen to me. Anti was right. I had to…pay. I'm a monster, aren't I? I'm horrible, aren't I? I'm a liar. A murderer. A selfish, foolish—"

Nitesco put his arms around Austin and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Stop it. Don't ever say those things about yourself."

Austin sniffled.

"You're more than the worst of yourself," Nitesco said. "Even if you've made mistakes, know that you're worthy of love. And know that you've made a lot of people very proud today."

Austin put her left arm around Nitesco and returned the hug, sobbing quietly.

"Easy, easy," Nitesco said. "You're okay. We won."

"It's not over yet," Austin said.

"It will be soon."

"Austin!" A voice rang out. Austin broke away from Nitesco, looked across the courtyard and saw… Kazehh?

Kazehh sprinted across the courtyard, nearly delirious. "Austin! My god!" He stopped in front of them, seeing her injury and shuddered. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine,"Austin lied. She looked over his shoulder and saw Coronam carrying Opifexa. "Opifexa!"

Austin and Nitesco rushed over to Coronam and Opifexa. Opifexa was still breathing, but winced in pain with every step Coronam took. As Austin and Nitesco approached, Coronam barely noticed them.

"Coronam!" Nitesco exclaimed. "How did you—"

"Draco came after us," Coronam explained. "Broke her back. Beat us senseless. But he's gone now." Coronam looked up and looked around. "The stables. Where are they?"

"There," Austin said, pointing at the deserted stables. Three horses remained, enough for the lot of them. They raced over and quickly let the horses out, saddling them in the courtyard as quickly as they could.

"Ah!" Opifexa winced as Coronam and Kazehh propped her up on the end of a horse. "Good god, that hurts!"

"I know," Coronam cooed, climbing into the saddle. "But it's all going to be over soon. Hold on tight."

Nitesco climbed into the saddle of the next horse, helping Austin up behind him. She grabbed onto him for dear life. Kazehh took the third horse as his own and steered it toward the breach.

"Now what do we do?" he asked. "It's chaos out there."

Nitesco grabbed the reins and steeled himself. "We'll find a way," he said. "There's always a way."

"Nitesco! Austin!" A voice cried out to them, and a man stumbled through the breach. Vulpix.

"Vulpix?" Austin asked. "What's going on out there?"

"Contramundi is making a path for our escape!" Vulpix wheezed. "But we must hurry! Gwydion. He's facing off against Jannis!"

"No!" Nitesco exclaimed. "We can't let that happen! He doesn't stand a chance!"

"Then we must hurry!" Vulpix said. They didn't have to be told twice. They galloped off, towards the breach, to save Gwydion.

Gwydion could feel his stamina slipping away. Jannis was getting more and more aggressive, getting more and more hits. A slice here, a jab there, but it was enough.

"Give up," Jannis said. His anger had simmered down, but it was still clear. "I know your strength is wavering. You know it too. Surrender!"

"No," Gwydion said. He yelled and swung at Jannis's leg, but was deflected. He stabbed at his chest. Blocked. He slashed at Jannis's face. Parried, and a shield blow to the shoulder for his efforts. Gwydion blocked another of Jannis's broad sweeps and ducked backwards.

"I just don't get it," Jannis said. "Why do you persist? You know you will die if you continue. Give in, and I promise to treat you with mercy."

Gwydion grit his teeth. His offer was tempting. His heart raced in his chest, his knees were weak… but he knew Nitesco was counting on him. Vulpix. Austin. All of them. If Jannis got back in the action, they were finished.

"Never!" he exclaimed. He swung at Jannis again, and managed to land. His sword clipped Jannis's stomach, eliciting a grunt, but Jannis hit Gwydion in the stomach with his shield in return. He fell backward, into the edge of the ditch, the wind knocked out of him.

"Are you not afraid to die?" Jannis asked. His face was impassive. Was he asking out of curiosity, or to taunt him?

"I'm terrified," Gwydion said, wheezing, "to die. I don't know what's there. I don't know what waits for me." He angled his sword at Jannis. "But I'm not unwilling to die. If it protects my friends, then I'll do it gladly."

"Bold words," Jannis said. "Can you live up to them?"

"I will," Gwydion said. He felt a deep pain in his stomach; Jannis' gut shot had caused internal bleeding. Nevertheless, he stood tall.

"We're the same, you and I," Gwydion said. "I know it. Both of us are willing to die for our cause, not because we are unafraid, but because duty calls us to do it. I trust you understand."

"I do," Jannis said. His face was cold now, and stoic, but his eyes betrayed some sympathy for him. "Better than any other. So from one warrior to another, I make my offer one last time: surrender, or die."

"I hope I won't die," Gwydion said. "But I'm sure as hell not going to surrender."

Jannis sighed and lifted his sword. "So be it."

Gwydion charged Jannis, angling his sword at his throat, and Jannis took the bait. He lifted his sword to deflect, and Gwydion backpedaled. He unholstered his hand cannon and fired at Jannis's heart.

Jannis blocked the shot.

"That trick," he said, observing where the pellet had embedded in his shield, "only works once."

Gwydion grit his teeth. "So be it."

He threw the hand cannon as hard as he could at Jannis, only for it to be knocked away by his shield. He descended on Jannis with abandon. He put all his force in every swing, hoping desperately that it would break his opponent's guard, but Jannis stood firm.

"I'm sorry, Gwydion," Jannis said. On Gwydion's last swing, he knocked the sword upward with his shield and stabbed. The blade fell into Gwydion's shoulder, causing him to scream and fall backwards, but he kept coming. Another strike, deflected. Jannis hit him in the thigh, and Gwydion toppled onto one knee. He tried to stab at Jannis's stomach, but Jannis brought his shield up into Gwydion's jaw, and he fell on his back. Finally, Gwydion tried one last swing to cut off Jannis's head. Jannis moved quicker, though, and in one swift movement, cut off Gwydion's right arm.

He shrieked as Jannis's sword passed through his elbow, and watched as his arm fell to the ground. Gwydion groaned in pain, numbed somewhat by adrenaline, and he felt a pressure on his chest. He looked up and saw Jannis pressing the point of his sword directly above his heart, and he steeled himself.

"So," Jannis asked, his face blank. "Was it worth it?"

Gwydion strained to turn his head to the side, toward the breach. Standing there, regal, despite his injuries, was Vulpix. Beside him were Kazehh, Coronam, Opifexa, Austin and Nitesco, sitting on horseback. They looked on helplessly, their faces contorted in fear and sorrow, but Gwydion knew they would be alright.

He turned back to Jannis, his face placid. "Yes," he whispered. Jannis smiled and raised his sword.

"Then you die a better death than most," he said. "Go to the Goddess."

As the sword plunged into his chest, Gwydion felt the world slow around him. As he looked up through the hazy air, he saw Jannis, his face ever placid, looking down on him. But he saw more than that. He saw Jelo. He saw Shippo and Inferno. He saw Jaeger. And, most bittersweet, he saw Austin, the old Austin, and Quixotic. They extended their hands to him, and he felt safe.

He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

* * *

"Gwydion!" Nitesco shouted. Jannis plunged his sword into Gwydion's chest, and they could do nothing but watch helplessly as the life drained from his eyes.

Vulpix grit his teeth and screamed a scream full of rage, helplessness, and hatred. He drew his sword and staggered toward Jannis. "You filth!" he cried. "You swine! You bastard! I'll kill you!"

Coronam pulled his steed in front of Vulpix, blocking his path. "No, Zealander!" he cried. "We can't lose you too!"

"Look!" A soldier exclaimed. "It's Contramundi!"

Contramundi finally broke through the lines, majestically galloping through and rearing up in front of Jannis. Austin saw a determination in his eyes that she had never seen before. He ran an approaching soldier through with his lance and turned to them.

"I've carved us a path," he said. "But it won't hold for long. Come on! We have to go!"

"But Gwydion!" Vulpix protested. Contramundi looked to Gwydion's body and sighed.

"We'll mourn later," he declared. "But we must leave now. Climb on!"

Vulpix obeyed, climbing onto the back of Contramundi's horse and giving a forlorn look back at Gwydion as he sped away. Jannis pointed his sword at them and ordered his men to attack, but it was no use. The group rode off through the path, following the retreat of their forces.

As they sped away, towards the mountains with the rest of their forces, Austin held Nitesco a little tighter. "I'm sorry, Nitesco," she said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…"

Their forces could outrun the Church's, Austin knew. As she looked back, about an eighth of their men followed along, with the Church in futile pursuit. She turned away and back to Nitesco, knowing that whatever they had gained, they had lost far, far more.

* * *

Eternal thanks to my editor, Austin2050, for not only putting up with my lack of grammatical knowledge but also contributing almost all the Austin scenes in the last two chapters.


	13. Chapter 13

**August 16, 9 ATC**

**Fort Bombus, Province of Hiven, Oligarchy of Bumblebee**

Jannis watched the fleeing League forces stream away from the battlefield, through the plains and toward the mountains. His men gave chase, but he knew they would not catch up. They had their victory, and that was enough for now.

He climbed up through the breach, observing the damage done to the fort. The armory was completely demolished, along with everything and everyone in it. The buildings next to it were also leveled, but notwithstanding this and the hole in the wall, the fort was otherwise undamaged.

"Jannis!" Anti cried out. She was limping badly, and clearly bloodied. Nevertheless, she was alive, more than Jannis could say for many of his men. He hurried over to her and steadied her.

"Anti," he said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said. Jannis lowered her down so she could sit on the ground.

"What happened in there?" he asked. Anti did not look up to meet his eyes.

"Nitesco and Austin… they left me," she whispered. "But Zissman…"

Jannis's eyes widened. Zissman, dead? It did not seem possible. He had spent so many years laboring for Zissman's plan, and Zissman never got to see it to its end. Worse, the Church and the Subreddit would be headless.

"Are you sure he is dead?" Jannis asked. Anti paused for a moment.

"He was lying there," she said, "with a knife in his chest. But I suppose I didn't check…"

"Jannis!" A voice cried out. Jannis turned around and saw Strike walking toward him. He clambered up through the breach, his uniform tattered and bloody. Nevertheless, was alive.

"Strike," Jannis said, and he smiled. "I thought I may have lost you too."

"Nonsense!" Strike said, feigning bravado. "I would never die to these brutes! But I must apologize. It seems the League was able to slip through our fingers."

"It matters little now," Jannis said. He turned his head again to the hills. The League had finally trickled out of sight. "They are defeated. Your reinforcements were what won us this battle. Don't undervalue that."

"I heard you killed Gwydion," Strike said, changing the subject. "Is this true?"

Jannis gestured toward the ditch where Gwydion's body lay, still warm. "It seems so," Jannis said with a twang of sadness. "But this day has exacted a toll from us as well."

Strike furrowed his brow and looked to Anti. When he saw how she failed to meet his eyes, he understood.

"Zissman is dead?" he asked. Jannis raised a finger to his lips to try and quiet him, but it was too late. He had already attracted the attention of a nearby soldier, who looked to Strike and Jannis with an almost childlike expression of sadness.

"Zissman is dead?" the soldier asked. The soldiers next to him heard and also turned to Jannis. The word spread through the men like wildfire, and within minutes, the weary, bloodied army was entirely alight with fear. The whole force began chattering away, turning to whoever was nearest and asking if what they had just heard could really be true.

Anti finally got up from the ground to cast a rueful glare at Strike, who merely stood agape at what he unwittingly caused. Jannis, though, did not scold him. Watching his proud army devolve into senselessness stirred something in him. He realized what they were: puppets, lost without a leader to guide them, or a cause to fight for. With Zissman gone, their empire would disintegrate, their work would be undone, and all his brothers and sisters-in-arms would be purposeless.

But they didn't have to be.

Jannis walked into their midst, stood atop a small pile of rubble, and raised his arms into the sky like the prophets of old. Eventually, the soldiers stopped chattering and turned their attention to Jannis, who stood so regally on his pile of rocks. A silence fell over them, and Jannis spoke.

"Brothers and sisters!" Jannis spoke in a deep, authoritative voice. This was not the voice he used to bark orders at his men; this was an inspiring voice. He watched the soldiers hang on his words, and he couldn't help but feel proud.

"Today we have defeated the League!" he announced. "Today, we have spurned our enemies. We have ground them into the dust, and soon, the whole country will know that we reign supreme!" His voice lowered into a softer, more emphatic tone. "But they have taken something from us: they have taken the life of Scion Zissman."

The soldiers, though they had all already heard, gasped. To hear Jannis, who was second only to Zissman, utter these words cemented them as fact instead of hearsay. But something compelled them to listen further.

"I know that is frightening," Jannis said, "and I know that is disheartening. He has prepared us for years for this moment. I know the pain of this loss better than any other: he was like a brother to me. A father. But we cannot let that stop us.

"I know it will be difficult to continue, but continue we must. We cannot let this stop the Goddess' will from being completed. We must press on! Zissman will be a martyr for the ages, watching us complete his work from Paradise. But we cannot let his sacrifice be in vain. If anyone among you wishes to set down their sword and return home, so be it. But if you wish to stay, to avenge this cruel injustice, to complete our holy mission, then stand with me now!"

At first, the crowd was silent, watching Jannis with curiosity. He felt a pang of self-consciousness, and for a moment, wondered if he had failed. But then, like a torrent of thunder, a cheer exploded from the ranks. Each man raised his weapon in the air, possessed by a fervent rage. From the crowd came the cheer of the old crusaders:

"Victory, or paradise! Victory, or paradise! Victory, or paradise!"

Jannis could not help but smile as he stepped down from his makeshift pulpit. The soldiers nearest to him approached him eagerly, ready and willing to take on any task.

"Sir!" the first among them said. "What are your orders?"

Jannis pointed out towards the trampled field, toward the bodies. "Retrieve the bodies," he said. "Give our men a proper burial. Dig a mass grave for the rest."

"What about that one?" a second man asked. He pointed toward a body in a deep ditch, bloodied and with an arm missing, and Jannis realized it was Gwydion.

He hesitated. "Bring that one inside," he said. "Sew up his arm, and embalm him."

"Sir?" the man asked. Embalming was an honor few received, usually reserved for great priests, statesmen, or warriors.

"He is a better man than most," Jannis said, his voice low. "Embalm him. We will put him in the crypt at Guns N' Roses. We owe such a fierce warrior that."

The soldiers obeyed, rushing off to the battlefield to retrieve Gwydion. Jannis turned back to Anti and Strike, who watched silently.

"I never figured you for the sentimental type," Anti said. Strike looked unsure.

"A fine speech," Strike said. "But now what do we do?"

"Take as many men as you can," Jannis said. "Go to our insecure holdings. Secure them. We must minimize our losses." He turned to Anti. "And you must contact our allies and puppets. Inform them that Zissman is dead, but make sure they won't abandon us."

"It will be done," Anti said, giving a small bow, "but I must ask, what will you do?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," Jannis said. He turned his eyes toward the citadel, and he wondered if Zissman had yet begun to rot.

"I have a Church to run."

* * *

**August 20, 9 ATC**

**The Mask's Fortress, Lockian Mountains**

Four days later, Austin could still feel the sting of her defeat, both metaphorical and literal. For three days their army had torn across the countryside, desperately avoiding any chance of an encirclement. They had lost thousands to the battle, and hundreds more vanished in the night to desertion. They were in no position to prevent it. When the League reached Enabler, they sent the bulk of their force to defend the Enablerish frontier. The rest of them, their officers and aides, went with the commanders to the Mask's mountain fortress to shelter.

Austin spent the night in a cold chamber. The Mask was not inhospitable; he had a great collection of food, wine, and literature. But that didn't stop the drafty mountain cold from getting in. The cold didn't stop Austin from sleeping the whole day, nor did the persistent pain in the wound where her right eye used to be; she spent most of the day drifting in and out of an exhausted slumber.

It was around six in the evening when she heard a knock on her door. Austin had been keeping busy with the copy of ANGQ's biography she had snatched from McDouggal back in Milk and Cereal, wondering what her father would've said about her current predicament. She sighed and tossed the book on her bed.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Kazehh." Austin got up and opened the door.

Kazehh wore a plain white tunic with pants to match, but they did little to conceal the bruises and cuts he had accrued during his escape. His face was uncharacteristically blank, and he winced as he shifted his weight.

"What's up?" Austin asked. Kazehh leaned against the doorway.

"They're having a service for Gwydion in the chapel," Kazehh said. "Vulpix was wondering if you were going to come."

"Will Nitesco be there?" Austin asked.

"He should be," Kazehh said. "But he's still pretty shook up. I think it'd be good for him if you were there too."

"Okay," Austin said. She closed the door behind her and followed Kazehh through the halls of the fortress to the chapel.

The chapel was impressive, having been carved with great detail out of the mountainside. One side was fitted with five stained glass windows, each one depicting a different religion's version of God. The light shining through the stained glass illuminated the other side of the cathedral, which had no windows. Instead, five statues, depicting a prophet of each religion, sat in the light of their gods.

The pews were filled with more people than Austin had expected: her officers and the Mask's men alike gathered to honor the fallen. She spotted Coronam in a middle row, sitting on the edge next to Opifexa. The ride to the fortress was particularly hard on her, and with the injuries she had sustained, there was doubt she would ever walk again. A few rows behind them sat Contramundi, flanked by his aides and guards, hands folded in his lap. At the altar was the Mask, who watched Austin and Kazehh enter, looking priestly in his cloak and mask. And in the front row was Nitesco, with Vulpix at his side, looking ahead in a trance.

Austin and Kazehh slid into the row behind them. Nitesco turned around to face Austin, and she could see his eyes were stained with tears. Nitesco managed a smile.

"Thanks for coming," he said. Austin nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. Nitesco put his hand on top of hers and turned back toward the Mask.

The Mask walked up to Nitesco and nodded sadly. "My condolences," he said. "Gwydion was a good man."

"Thank you," Nitesco whispered.

"Do you know what religion he followed?" the Mask asked. "I can change the rites, if you wish."

"He wasn't religious," Nitesco said. "Do what you think is best." The Mask nodded and took his place at the altar facing away from the congregation and toward the ceiling.

"O, God," he said, his voice swelling with conviction. "Your blessed one, Gwydion, has passed from this life. From birth until death he has lived a holy life, done his good deeds, and fought his just battles. In your mercy and your wisdom, we implore you, grant him peace and paradise."

"Grant him peace and paradise," the congregation echoed. Austin recognized the verse: it was a Cargoan rite, one she had seen her father perform as a child. Nitesco recognized it too, and he struggled to contain his tears.

"We fear the darkness," the Mask continued. "We fear the pain. Take Gwydion into your peace, O God, where there is no darkness and there is no pain. Take his soul into your grace, O God, and let him shed this earthly tether; for from dirt this body comes and to dirt it shall return. But his soul has come from you; let it return to you once more."

"Let it return to you once more," they all echoed.

"What is done is done, and he has returned from where he came." The Mask turned to the congregation. "As you have taken from Gwydion his grief and pain, take too our grief and pain from us. For while the dead are with you, the living stand alone. Come and walk with us, O God, as he now walks with you."

"As he now walks with you," was the solemn reply.

"I now invite all of you to pay your respects," the Mask said. "You may come up to the altar and pray or give offerings, if you wish." The Mask gave a final bow of reverence to the altar before calmly walking out of the chapel.

Coronam and Kazehh, along with a few others, went up to the altar to pay their respects. Nitesco, though, stayed seated, relaxing his grip on Austin's hand and folding his hands in his lap.

"I'm all alone now," he said to Vulpix. "Quixotic, Austin… now Gwydion. To think, after all these years fighting side-by-side, I'd ever see him gone…" He choked on a sob and tried to avert his eyes. "And I'm the last one…"

"I know," Vulpix said. He put his hand on Nitesco's shoulder, and Austin saw his eyes were wet as well. "Believe me, I know."

Austin's eye was hot with tears, and the pain in her right eye socket became sharp. She stood up to leave. No one saw her go or tried to stop her. At least, she hoped nobody saw her. She just needed a moment.

She found the Mask waiting outside, drenching a torch in oil to set it alight. He turned to her, and Austin could tell he was surprised.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, curious. She sighed.

"I couldn't be in there," she confessed. "It's my fault. My plan didn't work. If I had been quicker, I could've—" She stopped herself and blinked away the tears. "You made a mistake."

"A mistake?" the Mask asked. "What mistake?"

"You nominated me to be a commander," Austin said. "Back at the manor. It could've just been Nitesco, or Coronam. But you chose me. And I think that you made a mistake."

The Mask tisked quietly, and stood still for a few seconds. "Why don't we take a walk?" he said, and he guided her by the arm down a hall.

They walked in silence until the Mask spoke again. "I don't think I made a mistake," he said. "I see in you a drive I haven't seen in some time. A conviction. And guile too. No, nominating you was not a mistake at all."

"But I failed," Austin protested. "My plan failed. I killed McDouggal. I screwed up the battle. I only defeated Zissman because Nitesco came to save me. And I know you'll give me some line about teamwork, or togetherness, or whatever. But the fact is, they had me dead to rights. I wasn't strong enough to stop them. I didn't have it in me to win."

They turned a corner and came into a spacious outdoor pavilion, carved out of the mountainside. A small fountain bubbled away in the middle, surrounded by flowers of all shapes and sizes, and off the edge of the mountain they had a spectacular view of the sunset. The Mask sat her down on a bench near the fountain.

"Defeat is a part of war," the Mask said. "A pity as it may be, it is fact. But one defeat does not end a war. When your father lost the battle of Pollination during Celtic's Revolt, did he give in?"

Austin turned to him, surprised. "You know?"

"I'm a spymaster," he said. "Of course I know."

"Is that why you chose me, then?" Austin asked. "Because of my bloodline?"

"Not at all," the Mask said, and Austin sensed a mischief in him. "Well, partially. When I heard you speak at the meeting, I saw a fire in you that I only saw once before: in your father."

"You met my father?" Austin asked. The Mask snickered.

"You know," he said, reaching around the back of his head. "They say Villainians, for all their faults, have a long memory." He unbuckled the leather strap and let down his hood, clutching the mask in one hand. "And of all the things to forget, I will never forget the face of the man who dropped me through a building."

His hair was a darkened blond, but more important was his face: it was deeply, grievously scarred. But these were not battle scars. Strange runes crisscrossed his face, and Austin leaned back in surprise. She had read stories of her father's victories during Celtic's Revolt, and she knew only one man who matched his description.

"Yukon?" she said. He smiled devilishly.

"In the flesh," he said. Austin grabbed him by the collar. A sea of emotions burned like magma under her skin, but she kept her composure.

"How?" she asked. Yukon shrugged.

"On accident. I shattered my shoulder, but I had just enough strength to escape the inferno before I passed out."

"But why join us?" Austin asked. "Why help us? Nitesco! He was there when you—"

"Died?" Yukon interrupted. "Not quite. But I understand your doubts. I woke up in a very different world than I left. I expected to see my people fighting the Angelic League's forces to their dying breaths. But when I wandered through the broken streets, they were greeted as liberators. Saviors. I was the villain.

"I spent my life trying to end injustice. Foolishness. Corruption. I thought Emberald a paradise. But when I saw my people dancing in their ruined homes, I realized that I could not simply bludgeon the world into perfection. That mindset was the ultimate folly. So when I heard that there was a Church, an army of fools who sought to do the same as I had tried to do, of course I sought to stop it."

Austin sighed and released him. "Then we are still allies." She paused. "I will keep your secret, but I will tolerate no schemes here. No plots or plans."

"I would never dream of such petty things," Yukon said. He pulled up his hood and donned his mask again. "But remember why I chose you, Austin. We cannot afford to back down now."

Yukon left in a hurry, leaving Austin alone. So much swirled in her head: Gwydion, Zissman, Nitesco, Jannis, Yukon, Anti. It was all so much. But Yukon, whatever he was, was right. She had to stay strong.

Austin set her sword on the bench and sat down to watch the setting sun. After a few minutes, she heard footsteps approaching from behind her. She looked back over her right shoulder, then, having difficulty, turned and looked over her left. Nitesco made his way over and took a seat next to her.

"You left without saying anything," he said.

Austin swallowed. "I had to get out of there. I felt…I don't know. Wrong, being in that place."

"Sometimes you just need space," Nitesco wiped his eyes, which were still reddened. "I understand."

They looked out at the sunset together.

"I don't blame you," Nitesco said.

Austin hugged her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I know you aren't going to believe me if I tell you it wasn't your fault. I've been in your position. I know that it will weigh on you for a long time. You'll spend many a night thinking of all the things you could have done differently. How you could have saved someone you lost. You'll blame yourself." He turned and faced her. "But I want you to know that I don't blame you. Not for a second."

Austin looked down at her lap. "It was my plan, though. My decisions led us here. I'm responsible for everyone we lost. You must be lying. How could you not blame me?"

"If it wasn't your plan, it would have been mine, and mine would have gone worse. You can't always win."

Austin said nothing.

"What matters is that we don't lose ourselves," Nitesco said. "I'm going to remember these past few days for the rest of my life. Losing Gwydion... I don't think this will ever really go away. But I won't let that pain stop me from pressing on. I've still got a fight to finish."

Austin took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and looked Nitesco in the eye. "I'm with you all the way. I'll get better, get smarter, and do whatever I can to make things right. I'm sorry that I haven't been good enough so far. I'm sorry I let you down."

"Listen to me," Nitesco said. "You didn't let me down. Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done."

Austin shut her eyes. "Everything?"

"Everything."

Nitesco took Austin's hand in his, and they fell back into silence. The sun sank below the horizon, soon to rise again.


End file.
